The Girl Whose Name Was a Poem
by call-of-the-wind
Summary: Devnet Allaine, daughter to a sarmatian knight and a woad priestess, wasn't one of Arthur's knights. But she was part of them; a sister, a friend, even a lover. She grew up to be free but when a dark threat falls over the people she loves, she'll realize that freedom goes beyond chains and contracts. It's about home. Where the heart is.
1. Prologue: Going With The Big Boys

**_*Author's Note: Hey everyone :) Welcome to The Girl Whose Name Was A Poem . I know the name my sound a bit odd, but it will make sense right by the end of the prologue. The story starts a few weeks preview to the beginning of the movie, just so you get and idea of the time. I don't own anything save for Devnet and the situations non related to the movie. This is the first time I actually publish a fanfiction (or something that's not a short story for the matter). Well, I hope you like it. I'd love to read any reviews that come to you mind, just to see the general idea of what people think of the story, so reviews are most welcomed (and votes and follows won't harm anyone either, but there's no pressure) Now go and read something :)_**

_-Arthur!-._

_The cry at their backs had all the boys turning their heads. It was almoust as if a little bird was calling their future commander; its voice chipping against the noisy main street of the village. At first, the group saw nothing._

_-Over there-pointed Tristan, a boy with unkempt dark hair, and tattoos on his cheekbones. His sight was as good as a hawk's and he spotted the owner of the voice long before she appeared, pushing her way between the legs of those around her._

_It was a little girl, not taller than a man's knee, struggling to reach them. Her hair was dark brown, wavy and it flowed around her face, casting shadows over her pudgy pink cheeks. She had the biggest eyes, almoust too big for her small pale face. They were a strange mixture of brown specked with blue, or maybe blue specked with brown; either way they certainly stood out. They seemed to shine with begging innocence; turning her to a creature so pure, even the most brutal man would not dare to harm her. She looked like a bundle, all wrapped in furs to protect her from the cold bite of winter. Snow crunched beneath the weight of her boots as she urged her chubby legs to a trot._

_-Who's that?-a boy by the name of Gawain, with long dreadlocks of blond hair escaping from beneath his woollen hat, inquired, eyeing the toddler with surprise._

_-That's Devy-explained Arthur, slightly incommoded by the quizzical looks of the boys who would grow to be his knights when they were of age-She's sir Aynor's daughter. She follows me around sometimes, because her father was friends with my father so…you know…she just…follows…-._

_The sarmatian boys kept a respectful silence. They all admired sir Aynor, a former sarmatian knight who has remained in Britain after his service to Rome, because he had fallen in love with a woad, no doubt that little girl's mother. Now he instructed the boys on their training. However, they didn't quite fancy the idea of having his daughter tacking along on their adventure to the woods._

_She finally reached them. Normally, a girl her age and size would have been intimidated by the horses they rode, but she walked amongst them as if she'd grown between their legs, and finally hugged her short little arms around the leg of Arthur's horse._

_-I wanna go too-she pleaded, standing on her tiptoes._

_Arthur eyed her awkwardly. He didn't want to seem tender and weak in front of his future knights, after all he was to be their commander, and commanders don't pay attention to little five-year old girls._

_-You can't, Devy. Go home-he answered, trying to sound stern without hurting the little girl's feelings. Sir Aynor treasured his daughter above all else, and he'd made it quite clear that if someone ever made Devy cry, he'd cut their ears out and make them eat them._

_Devnet pouted, sticking out her lower-lip and making it tremble._

_-Why not?-she cried._

_-Because you're too small-interrupted another boy. Devnet stared at him with a childish little frown on her face. He was a big boy, with a hoarse voice and a round face._

_-Excuse me-she snapped, placing her hands on her tiny hips, accompanied with a tiny frown she had certainly copied from some woman around the fortress-But I've known how to ride since I was two…and by the way, you're holding the reins all wrong. The horse's head is supposed to be straight, not turned to the left, you …you-she searched her limited five year old vocabulary for a proper insult-you stupid cow-she finally stated, rather satisfied with herself._

_The boys laughed at the burly one, mocking the fact he'd been out-smarted by a five year old girl_

_-Apparently she'd not too small to kick your ass, Bors-cracked one._

_-Let her come, Arthur-._

_Devnet turned to the boy who had interrupted the laughing; a top of a very big black horse. He must have been around nine, because he looked a few years younger than Arthur, who Devy knew was eleven. He had a small smile on his white face. His hair, dark and curly, twisted in every direction, and fell over his coal-black eyes. The little girl couldn't help but blush faintly and stare at the ground, digging into the earth with the tip of her boot. She bagged her eyelashes shyly and smiled. _

_-What?-the young Castus seemed surprise by his companion's request._

_-Let her come-repeated the boy-I like her, she's funny-._

_-We don't have a spare horse-grunted Arthur. He'd hoped to have an all-boys ride were he could practise his future position as a commander. He didn't want Devy stealing the attention._

_-She'll ride with me-said the boy, and winked in her direction, causing her to giggle and reached out for him to pull her up. He sat her in front of him, throwing his arms around her-Besides, I have a feeling that even if we don't let her come, she'll follow us on those chubby little legs of hers- he flashed a charming smile at her._

_ Devnet clapped giddily, happy someone had come in her defence, and aimed for the reins._

_-No, no, no-said the boy, taking them away from her hands-If you want to come, you'll have to let me use the reins, okay?-._

_She gave a tiny whiny sight and nodded, plopping herself against the boys stomach._

_-Oh, fine. She can come, I guess-agreed Arthur, even though he knew she would've tagged along anyway, since she was already mounted._

_They'd turned their horses and headed towards the gates. Devy felt quite important and pleased with herself, for she had managed to go with the big boys. The boys were jesting with each other, except for the one she was riding with._

_-So, Devy-he broke the silence, with a friendly tone-What's your full name?-._

_-Devnet-she answered, turning her round little head to look at him-It means "poet". My mum named me. It's a celtic name-she chipped rather proudly. She reached out and played with a small pendant in the boy's chest, with the shape of a fanged beast-What's yours?-she asked._

_The boy grinned softly at her, taping the tip of her freckly nose with his index._

_-Im Lancelot-._

***Author's Note 2.0 : To make the story slightly_ (ver slightly)_ more accurate, I added Allaine as Devnet's second name; because it is a variant of Elaine. So at least we could say that her name is closer to the original Arthurian Legends. **


	2. I) The Remains

**Here it goes ! Please remember to tell me what you think! :)**

_*fifteen years later*_

The tavern was as noisy as ever that night. Farmers, town's men and roman soldiers alike were all clustered between the tables in an attempt to escape de chill of the late autumn. Serving girls danced in between, delivering mugs full of strong ale to the already drunk men. The place rang with laughter and the somewhat detuned melody of the clearly drunk musicians.

Devnet herself was one of the serving girls, balancing a tray with six cups towards the noisiest table in the place, where the notable sarmatian knights of Hadrian's Wall were currently throwing bits of their food at each other. Devnet rolled her eyes.

_Boys will be boys. _

-Oy! Devnet!-called a young roman officer from a table a few steps away to her right-When are you coming down from God's sweet heaven and into my bed, angel?-.

A smile played across Devnet's plump lips, as she swirled around gracefully, her wavy brown locks flowing behind her.

-You know I don't need to leave heaven to get into you bed, Quintus-she winked right back at the man, who lifted his ale in her direction with appreciation.

-That's my girl!-.

Laughing and rolling her eyes once more, she made her way to the knights table. She shook her head at how silly arrogant romans could be, especially when drunk. She'd bedded Quintus one night ages ago and the man still believed she was completely infatuated with him.

-Here you go, boys-she smiled, placing the tray at the centre of the table. They'd already stopped their childish food war and cheered her appearance.

-Here she is!-Galahad grinned in her direction, his blue eyes twinkling with a boyish light not even his beard would be able to hide-The lady of the ladies. The best woman on the fortress. The-.

-One woman you've ever actually talked to?-finished Gawain, and they all fell into laughter.

Devnet smirked.

-Now, now, Gawain. Don't make fun of Gallie, at least he hasn't retched in some girl's skirts-.

The blond knights went bright red beneath his whiskers.

-I…didn't…It was only a little cough…-he muttered, mortified. His brother's at arms roared in laughter, remembering the event.

-Don't call me Gallie!-snapped Galahad on his part.

-It's either that, or _Baby-face_-.

Bors snorted to her right.

-_Ugly-face_ sounds more like it-.

-You're one to talk. The only kids that don't scream in fright every time they to see you are your own-.

Bors attempted to smack the young knight with his mug, but Galahad ducked before it reached him, splashing wine on Gawain instead.

While Devnet shook her face and handed a cloth for her best friend to dry himself, a strong arm snaked around her waist, taking a hold of the belt of her skirts and pulled her on to a familiar lap.

-When will you quit playing with those roman fools and treat with real men?-Lancelot's voice was husky against her ear, burying his face in her thick hair. The knights whistled _"uh"_s and _"oh"_s mockingly, waiting for some witty answer from the girl's part.

-I guess that'll happen when I actually come across one-she shot right back at him, with a self-sufficient grin. Lancelot smirked wolfishly.

-You mean right now, then-. He leaned to kiss her neck, his brothers at arms cheering around them. Devnet lifted her eyes to the sky with a bored expression, pushing the curly haired knight away from the pale spot where her neck met her shoulder.

-_As if_-.

Lancelot bit at her earlobe with a growl, earning a slap at the back of his head.

-Changing the subject, before this two end up fucking or killing each other. Have y'all seen my child yet?-Bors was boisterous with the birth of his eleventh bastard, an adorable little girl barely a couple of weeks old that had completely stole the burly man's heart.

-Oh, she's a _lovely_ one-sighted Devnet. She'd been helping Vanora with her children today, and her friend had allowed her to hold the baby and put her to sleep-Her father did a wonderful work-she acknowledged.

Lancelot swallowed the wine down his throat.

-Thank you, love-.

She hit the back of his head again, while he chuckled. Bors shot him the middle finger, glowering.

-I said the child was lovely- Dev pointed out-Anything that _you_ fathered would be….how is it that the romans say? Oh yes. The spawn of the Devil-.

The dark knight frowned.

-Why, love. Do not talk like that about our children-.

His statement was followed by a serious of childish slaps falling all over him, chorused by laughter all around the table.

Devnet grabbed Lancelot´s mug and took a sip, looking around her as if searching for someone.

-Where's Arthur?-.

The knights shuddered.

-Probably finding some responsibility to attend to, for the sake of not going mad. You know how he is-commented Galahad, flashing a smile at a passing serving girl

-Gods, I swear he's such a damn altruist it makes me sick-muttered Lancelot, taking away his cup from the small brunette in his lap, much to her protests.

-Ya know-Bors pointed a finger to no one in particular-I bet he's fooling us all, and actually brings a different wench into his chambers every time we're not around to notice-.

The rest seemed to actually considered the theory for before bursting out laughing, Bors included.

-Who am I kidding? The boy's a bloody saint-.

-Interesting choice of words, Bors-Devnet teased-"_Bloddy" _and _"saint"_ in the same sentence. That's appropriate-she sneered ironically-What of Tristan?-.

-Im right here, woman-.

They all jumped in their sits. Devnet nearly fell backwards, but managed to lock her arms around Lancelot's neck as he caught her waist, straightening her back on his lap.

-Gods, Tristan! How long have you been there!?-she breathed, directing her gaze towards the dark corner where the scout sat calmly peeling an apple.

-I've been here all the time-.

Bors frowned.

-Really?-.

The tattooed man shrugged and slipped a slice of fruit into his mouth.

Devnet asked Vanora for the rest of the night off, and stayed with her favourite men joining them in their drinking. Since she had grown up in the middle of the group of sarmatian men, she had been bound to learn how to drink, unless she wanted to endure mocks for the rest of her life, and after getting ridiculously drunk for the first time and having no memory of the night the day after, she was not willing to go through it again.

The whole time, she didn't move from Lancelot's lap, her hand absent-mindedly playing with the curls at the back of his head. Every few minutes he'd take it to nibble at her ear and kiss her neck, tickling her with his short beard. She would giggle and push him off gently, though not ceasing with their merciless flirting. The other knights weren't amused at all by their unusual relationship. They'd ended up growing used to it, though it was still confusing. One minute they seemed about to murder each other, and the next Lancelot was running freely his lips up and down her jaw and Devnet didn't even flinch, almoust as if they were lovers, though they all knew perfectly well that was hardly the case. Devnet would never go beyond that with the dark sarmatian. He had other women for that.

The men were teasing Galahad about a particular girl that had caught his attention; a serving woman that went by the name of Prya. Devnet knew her. Though pretty, she was nearly five years older than her friend.

-Why would Prya be intrested in you, when she's already experienced real men like me?-smirked Lancelot, enjoying how his younger brother at arms gritted his teeth and cursed him. This time he ducked to avoid Devnet's slap at the back of his head, snorting in his cup.

She instantly jumped into Galahad's defence, though more to catch the chance to argue with the soldier that currently served her as her chair than to defend her friend.

-Maybe _that_'s actually the reason. Any woman would run off to someone as sweet as Galahad after being with such an arrogant idiot like you-.

-You didn't seem to be complaining last night-he muttered, nibbling at her neck seductively.

-Aw, you dreamed I was in bed with you last night? How very…insulting-.

-I don't really know what's worse, Devy-Gawain grabbed the tiny hands of the wench who was currently massaging his shoulders, smirking at Devnet-To bed Lancelot, or _captain Quintus_-he snorted out the name with clear mockery.

-That was almoust a year ago!-.

-Well, lass, you know what they say about bad choices, they follow you forever-.

-Well in that case, I pity your mother. She's probably been believing all this years she actually got rid of you-.

Ale kept on circulating around the table, as well as the jests and the laughter. The drunker the men got, the merrier they became, until nothing could be heard above their loud voices. Devnet herself drank as much as they did, stealing Lancelot's cup from his hand and emptying it before he had the chance to protest. She amused herself teasing her friends as much as they teased her, her crystal clear laughter ringing in the air.

She knew she'd had too much to drink when Galahad and Gawain challenged her to a knife throwing competition and they both beat her at it. Leaving Tristan aside, she was by far the best knife thrower in the group. If her two best friends could actually defeat her, everything pointed out it was time to call it a night.

She returned Lancelot his drink and slipped her hand away from the opening at the neckline of his vest, standing on her feet.

-Well, my dears. It is time that I take myself home-.

The knights groaned in protest.

-C'mon, _petite_-slurred Gawain, pulling her hand-Gal and I will let you win this time-.

She laughed, grabbing the shaggy-looking man by his jaw.

-Dear, if you're actually saying that you can let me win, then I absolutely have drank too much already-.

She incorporated herself and kissed each man sweetly on the cheek, throwing her arms enthusiastically around their neck, giggling. It was the love she held for them…but also the wine in her system.

-Would you like me to walk you home, Little One?-Dagonet offered, noticing her current state. He hadn't drank as much as his comrades; and besides, the safety of the tiny girl concerned him. Any man with ill intentions might find it easier to take advantage of her considering her drunkenness.

However, she shook her head, touching his cheek gently.

-That's not necessary Dag-she laughed-Really, Im _not _as drunk as I seem-she added when he looked unconvinced.

He smiled, shaking his head, and leaned to place a small kiss on her brow.

-Very well then-.

She smiled at them and walked out of the tavern, letting her hand slide seductively over Lancelot's shoulders before she left. He slapped her butt softly when she passed.

She flinched.

-Why you little…-

-Oh, Gods be damned! Cut it _out_, you two-snapped Galahad.

The curly haired knight smirked behind his cup-Don't be jealous, pup. Im sure I can use my charm to convince a few girls on pretending to like you-.

Devnet chorused the men's laughter without looking back, though she did shout at Lancelot over her shoulder:

-I don't like you either, so I don't know what on earth you're bragging about anyway, Lance_dork_-.

Once she was far from the warmth of the tavern, she wrapped her woollen shawl tightly around her slim white shoulders, walking slowly through the main streets so as to keep her balance. The ale had made her slightly dizzy, and she wasn't about to make a fool of herself by stumbling in the middle of the street heads first to the mud.

The sky was clear, stars scattered over it like diamonds over a rich roman lady's dress. It remained her of the stories her mother would tell her when she was a toddler, about beautiful goddesses that dressed themselves in starlight to attract their male fellow gods. Her mother said that the same starlight shone in a woman's eyes when she wanted to catch a man's attention, and it was that glow that made men fall in love. _A pretty story, but apparently my eyes aren't that shiny_ she reflected bitterly. Immediately she scolded herself for thinking something so foolish. As if she wanted the idiot to fall in love with her anyway. She snorted to herself and fixed her eyes on the road again, before she tripped.

Her feet lead her inevitably towards the stables. She'd practically grown up there, running recklessly between the horses' legs, unaware of the danger it supposed. Her father had taught her how to ride at the tender age of two; and by the time a year had gone by, she had already been perfectly capable of riding a horse on her own. She felt like there was some deep connection between her and this animals. They were, in many ways, very similar to humans, to a point were rider and mount could actually come to understand each other.

All the horses in the stables recognized her, and welcomed her by turning their heads in her direction and nuzzling their noses against her extended palm. She had tended most of them since they were wobbly foals, and had trained them as well. They followed her whenever she passed, with unconditional adoration to whom they considered their pack leader. Horses were the biggest and most important legacy her father had left her, and in away, what kept his memory so vivid within her. He would always remind her of an old sarmatian legend that said fallen knights came back to life in the shape of great horses.

She was deeply convinced that her father had reincarnated on her own stallion, _Cian_, to watch after his daughter even after his death. He was a magnificent animal; with marbled skin moulted with grey down his legs. His dark mane shone beneath the torch light. He had big and expressive brown eyes, and so full of wisdom and familiarity, she believed they were just another prove that she was actually looking at the eyes of her father.

-Hello, lovely-she scratched his ear fondly. The horse snorted softly and rested his head over her small shoulder. Devnet flung her arms around its powerful neck and inhaled deeply its scent. Leather and wilderness. Her father had smelled like that too.

She continued her round, caressing soft velvety noses, refilling some water pails when needed, and slipping a sugar cub every now and then. In the far end of the stables were the compartments of the powerful horses belonging to the knights. She sighted melancholically. There was more horses that riders. Twelve, and yet there was only six Sarmatians left. She'd seen so many of the men she'd grown to consider brothers, leave on a patrol or a mission, only to return dead. Fourteen knights had fallen, fourteen members of the only family she had left. The last to fall had been Percival. The hopeful look full of promise he gave her the last time she ever saw him alive still hunted her in her dreams, thought half a year had gone by. Her six remaining Sarmatians were the most important thing in her heart.

She rubbed the horses' heads, wondering at their bravery and loyalty willing to follow their owners to the very heart of danger. She'd trained them so, all though she would have wished a brighter life for such noble creatures.

She was particularly fond of and amazing war-horse, a Frisian, black as night with long silky mane and tail, and feathered hair covering its powerful hooves. Lancelot's mount was almoust as hot tempered as his owner, but with her, the intimidating beast turned as sweet as a kitten.

-How you doin', big fella'?-she runned a hand softly along his head and slipped and apple into his mouth-Good boy, _Vahe_. Good boy-she leaned and placed a small smooch over the stallion's nose.

As she made her way out, the torches started going out violently one after one, blown by someone hidden in the darkness they left behind. Before she had time to react, Devnet was swallowed into the pitch gloom.


	3. II) Not Romeo, Not Juliet

_**He ain't pretty with his hard old heart  
>Second generation immigrant scars<br>And he knows that this ain't heaven - no  
>She's all skinny like a cigarette<br>And he's the only thing - the only thing that she respects  
>And he's trying to make it better<br>This ain't love this ain't love this ain't love at all  
>And she says...<br>We're not Romeo - not Juliet**_

_**-Bryan Adams**_

Devnet's fingers closed around the hilt of the dagger she kept hidden up her sleeve, while she forced her eyes to adjust to the darkness around her. She wasn't stupid enough to shout _"Who's there?"_ and give away her position. Soundlessly, keeping her back against the horses' compartment doors she slowly crept towards the exit when a hand covered her mouth to keep her from screaming and pulled her away into the darkness. . She immediately relaxed, smiling against the palm that silenced her, as the shadow dragged her into a dark corner were the hay was stocked. She found herself shoved violently against the wall and the hand on her mouth was replaced by pair of all too familiar lips kissing her with red-hot passion.

She moaned softly in appreciation, parting her lips and allowing her tongue to toy in a slow, sensual wrestling with the other that was ravishingly exploring her mouth. In the pitch darkness, her hands closed around the hard muscles of a pair of forearms, moved north towards the head and finally sank with a satisfying sight from the man's part in the thick, soft mop of curls.

Lancelot's hands travelled down her hips, getting a hold of her firm thighs over the skirts of her dress, pulling her legs around his waist. He cupped her cheeks, flushed in the dark, and reluctantly broke his mouth away from hers, causing her to moan in protest.

-Don't stop-she pulled his lips back over hers, feeling she was tasting heaven. He grinned against her mouth, kissing her hungrily, as if he could not get enough of her.

-Wasn't I…-he mumbled teasingly, in between their fervent lip-locking-An arrogant idiot?-.

Devnet pulled back just enough to meet his black eyes with her own, a mixture of light brown and blue around the pupil. She laughed.

-You are-she bit her lower lip seductively-But you're also insanely attractive-.

Lancelot smirked and kissed her again, crashing her against the wall with his body until there wasn't even space for air between them. He moved to place a road of butterfly kisses up and down her neck; the touch of his short dark stubble causing shivers down to her very bone. Hands gently tracing circles over her hipbones, Lancelot buried his face in her shoulder, sucking gently at the sensitive spot in the crook of her neck. Devnet had to bite her tongue to stifle a yelp of pleasure. "_Gods, please let there be no one around to hear us. That would be so very embarrassing". _She giggled, though more due to the tickles of Lancelot's beard in her collarbone than to the idea of being caught.

-I'll_ kill_ that roman if he ever calls to you like that again-he growled into her neck.

-_Ha_!-she breathed, starting to undo the buttoning of his leather vest with a smirk-You're the biggest _hypocrite_ for saying that-.

-I know-.

They met their lips in another fiery kiss that had them out of breath but unwilling to let go in an instant. They struggled to find a way of catching some air without breaking away. It was an unbearable sweet agony. Her hands were finally inside his shirt, and she could feel the maddening rhythm of his heart beneath her palm. The muscles of his chest tensed beneath her touch. He groaned softly when she runned her nails over his burning skin.

She leaned to trace her way down his neck, tasting the sweat that layered over his pale skin as she pushed his shirt over his broad shoulders. He leaned his head back with a heavy sight of satisfaction, and she nibbled at his Adam's apple before turning her attention to his collarbone.

-Fuck, woman. You'll be my downfall-.

They fell rather clumsily over the pile of clean hay. It tucked painfully on Devnet's back, and she flinched a little bit, accidently hitting the knight's stomach with her knee.

-Sorry-she mumbled-The hay pinched me-.

He laughed hoarsely, pulled her into his arms and rolled so that she was over him, exposing his own bare back to the hay. There was something tender about that gesture that send a momentary mushy warmth through her. It was always nice when, even in the breaks of passion, sometimes the old Lancelot that had protected her like a hero when she was a little girl showed beneath the womanizer.

-Lancelot, if someone comes and see us…-she began as he undid the laces of her dress.

-They won't, love. I locked the door on the way in-he winked at her.

-How very thoughtful of you-.

The man pulled her gown away with the easiness given to him by experience. As always, Devnet chose to ignore the fact that he did this with many other women. That was perhaps the only part of his life in wich she had no intrested in sticking her nose in.

The cool air brushed against her sensitive bare skin when she laid there in nothing but her breeches and the cloth that held her small but firm breasts.

-Cold-she protested despite the situation, sounding almoust like a child. She heard Lancelot's hoarse laugh again in the dark, and the next think she knew, he was in a sitting position with her straddling his lap and his face buried inside her cleavage.

-I'll heat you up-.

Lust had her sighting heavily as she played with the knight's black curls, his head buried in her chest. He removed the cloth around it painfully slow, with a sly smile, and by the time his lips were playing with her nipples, she was definitely on cloud nine. Her nails dug in the broad muscles of his back, and she could feel his jaw clench due to the slight shot of pain, but it was a sweet torture in midst of the passionate swirl they were so very violently falling through.

They crossed no more words, then, save the countless times they called each other's name, sometimes in a breathless whisper, others so loud it sounded like a fanatic prayer to their Gods. Their consciousness, the world around them dissolved into nothing but that tourbillion of mad desire driven by a passion none of them could control. Finally, they crashed to the bottom of the swirl and were sent straight to a void of sweet oblivion, their sweaty bodies falling spent over the hay as their souls slowly eased their way back to reality.

It took them long enough to regain enough breathe as to speak, and even then the silence remained, each lost in their own empty mind while they enjoyed the aftermath of their coupling. Devnet traced lacy patterns over the chest covered in a thin layer of dark hair, while she was vaguely conscious of Lancelot playing with her long brown waves, twisting the soft locks around his fingers. The girl's head rested above his heart, and she felt how the organ so very gradually beat its way back to its regular rhythm.

-Why do we not do this every night?-.

Lancelot sounded deeply satisfied, sighting with content and lazily running his hand up and down the line of her spine. Devnet snorted.

-Why, dear, I'll give you a hint. It's got skirts, aged over thirteen and under fifty and…oh yes, there must be around thirty of forty others like it all around the fortress-she replied ironically. She sat up, smiling in the dark, but before she could grab her gown, Lancelot was sitting up behind her and pulling her back in the hay.

-What about the ones with swords, red coats and ridiculous names ending in _"ius"_?-he added, kissing the outline of her shoulders.

Devnet rose her hand to meet those thick black curls she so much loved to get her hands in.

-Hey!-she giggled-I've slept with way less men than you with women. Besides, I do it every once in a while and only with the ones Im truly intrested in-.

-So do I-his tone was playfully innocent.

-Yeah, the only difference being the fact that you're intrested in every woman matching the previous description-she turned and pushed him playfully. He laughed and rolled with her on the hay, causing her to giggle, squeak and sneeze.

-You're lucky you match that description then, love-.

-Gods know I must be crazy to actually bed you like any other-.

-Not exactly like them. You're a little bit… _more_-his mouth was on her neck now, causing her to moan softly.

_Friends with benefits_. The label still didn't quite sound right to Devnet, even after nearly five years of being caught up in their twisted little game. She supposed it was perfectly viable for a man and a woman to sleep together and remain simple friends, but there had always been something about her and Lancelot; and deep inside they both knew it; that made them more than that, yet not enough to settle for each other.

Unlike with the other knights, she'd never seen Lancelot as a brother. There was something strange between them, an intimate connection that runned so deep inside them some would've called it fate. It eluded all possible explications and manners of a normal attraction, wich was perhaps the main reason of why they couldn't stand each other, just as they couldn't stand to be apart.

She'd been fourteen when she started taking notice in the lingering glances the then eighteen year old knight cast in her direction whenever she was helping at the tavern, or practicing her bow shooting a few meters away from where he was fencing. Funny enough, instead of feeling intimidated of blushing like a silly little girl, she'd taken full advantage of that growing sexual tension between them. After all, she' d always found him handsome, and with each passing year she become more enticed by the thicket of black curls twisting over his brow, the growing whiskers around his jaw; the smirking, husky bedroom eyes so dark with michief.

She soon picked up the trick of seducing and flirting with him. She started sitting on his lap, almoust innocently at first, but then they began exchanging witty insinuations; until they reached the point in wich Lancelot could freely kiss her neck in front of anyone and no one would be surprised. On a late summer eve, she'd learned how to kiss her way to a man's own will with him; and at the same time fully realized the power Lancelot himself had over her. The spell they could cast over each other. She'd become addicted to his lips after that. And it quickly become quite clear he was after the same drug from her part.

She'd never intended it to go that far, though. She never wanted to go all the way through, scared that the stirring tinkles inside her every time they kissed and touched might actually turn into something stronger if she actually bedded him like all the other women.

She hadn't counted with the unwilling true desires brought to light by a single night of to many drinks, though.

Lancelot buried his face in her neck again, causing her to gasp breathlessly when the sharp hair on his jaw pinched at her collarbone. She could feel him grin smugly against her body.

-You just love that, don't you?-she managed to whisper. A low moan escaped her throat when he bit at the crook of her neck.

-I love the sounds you make-.

She loved everything about him. The softness of the black curls tugged beneath her chin every time he fell asleep over her breast. The dark glances he cast in her direction over his cup at the tavern. The times he pulled her into his lap despite her protest when he was gambling, just because he affirmed she brought him good luck. The low rumble of his chuckles inside his chest every time she did or said something amusing.

She loved being preferred over all his other conquers too.

She pulled away from his embrace with a smug smile, tracing lazy patterns over the hair in his chest.

-Mhhm…-his grip tightened around her hipbones, causing her to moan at the sweet pain he inflicted-Where do you think you're going, sweetheart?-.

She laughed, tracing the outline of his skilful lips.

-Well, sir Lancelot, Im afraid that as much as I enjoy your company, I must take myself and the lovely sounds I make to bed..._Alone_-she added when he opened his mouth to voice his intentions of joining her.

-C'mon on petite-he whispered huskily in her ear, his arms working their way gently up and down her arms. She sighted, shaking her head with a smile.

-Not tonight, Lancelot-.

-Why not?-he sucked at her earlobe.

She turned and bit at the end of his scruffy chin.

-Because otherwise you won't miss me-she pecked his lips and stood up to get dressed before he had a chance to protest. He chuckled.

-You're a tease-.

-Oh, I know I am-she tied the laces of her dress, bending her elbows in an uncomfortable position in order to reach the laces at her back. She winced when her shoulder blades were pushed together and let out a strangled sound of exasperation. Lancelot chortled.

-Here. Let me help with that, love-he heard him stand and step behind her, gently tearing her hands away and tying the laces himself.

-Oh my, this is unheard of. Lancelot du Lac, helping a woman _into_ her dress instead of taking it off her-her tone was teasing. His chest rumbled with laughter against her back, heat radiating from their proximity.

-Get out of here before I change my mind, doll-he slapped her bottom gently, causing her to giggle. She turned and gave him an intense kiss, making sure he was left wanting more. She stepped away with a childish laugh and sprinted towards the exit, ungracefully tripping over a bucket in the dark. She muttered every curse that came to her mind in both in Gaelic and English, jumping to keep her balance and holding her small foot with a series of muffled _"ow"s_. Lancelot burst into a fit of hysterics, promptly stopped by the landing of his own boot on his face.

-Fuck a cow, my _lord_-.

**Please tell me what you think so far, I'd love to know if there is something I should correct, maybe improve in the next chapters. If I captured the characters well, if it's interesting, anything you want to comment I'd love to hear it. Any feedback might help me improve my writing. The next chapter is slowly coming up, and I can tell you things will start moving more from this point on :) **


	4. III) Turns of the Wheel (Part One)

**Hello lovelies! I know it might have taken more time than expected. Also it turned out to be longer as well, so I'll split it into three or four parts (depend on the amount of words), so it won't be too much. I hope you enjoy it, and as always please leave your reviews, comments and votes so I know what you think. It's like seeing the story through the readers eyes :) And it serves as encouragement and improvement in my writing, so I would be really thankful. Well, enjoy !**

Up and down the British territory, Woads, Picts, Celts and the other free folk of the island were celebrating the turn of a new year upon their doorsteps. At Hadrian's Wall, however, Samhain celebrations were slightly altered. Life at Badon Hill was based upon the Roman calendar, and therefore New Year's Eve was not coming for two months yet. But since most commoners at the fortress were connected to the Britton heritage in one way or another, the pagan celebration was still carried out, though not as a New Year party.

Before her mother died, Devnet's family celebrated Samhain according to the woad tradition, that is, considering it New Year's Eve; or so her father had told her.

Perhaps now it didn't hold that meaning to her anymore, but the last night of October was nonetheless a time of turning tides and changing winds, of seelie folk leaving the Avalon to play tricks upon the unaware, and of spirits crossing over to the world of the living to either bless or torment those they'd left behind.

That year it would bring more changes than ever. Because this was the fifteenth time the Sarmatians celebrated the festival…wich meant it also could possibly be the last. She was finding it extremely hard not to mourn over the last fourteen Samhain with her beloved men and the fact that those times were coming to an end.

As she helped around with the preparing for the evening party, she couldn't help herself, however. Three boys, not older than ten, raced past her, nearly knocking her over a stand of games. The children's faces morphed before her eyes into younger versions of Galahad and Gawain, and the smallest one became a girl...her own eight year old image. They were running around the bonfires, trying to elude the roman soldiers whose clothes they'd on purposely set on fire. She remembered crawling like dogs beneath the tables, staying out of sight not only from the soldiers, but also from her father, Sir Aynor, for fear of being punished. They'd finally found a safe hiding place beneath a wooden stage from where they could watch the entire festivities without being caught. They'd spent the rest of the evening giggling over their pranks and daring each other to rob treats from the stands. The biggest change that Samhain brought was the name the town's people placed upon them: The Devilish Three.

On another Samhain, she'd taught Tristan how to dance. She hadn't even given him a chance to refuse, pulling the sombre scout out of his regular state of stoniness and forcing him to swing her around the dance floor. She'd been thirteen, and she'd only just began drinking ale. It made her tipsy and confident, wich explained why she'd actually dared to do so. The new beginning that Samhain was that of their friendship.

Very different had been the Samhain from two years previous. She had stayed in her room all night, in no mood for celebrating. She was eleven and it was the first Samhain in her life she spent without her father.

Besides that eleventh Samhain, the year she turned sixteen had been the one with the biggest change yet. She drank too much and danced even more and spent the entire evening with her hip attached to the one of a certain curly haired man she was helplessly attracted to. That that had been the first Samhain night she spent with another man…and the last she spent as a virgin. It was also the year in wich she firmly convinced herself the seelie folk had somehow stolen away her good sense.

Leaving the memories aside, she set down the basket of apples for the apple-bobbling beside the bucket of water.

-Finally-grunted the toothy old man who ran the game-Im glad you decided not to take all year to bring those damn apples, wench-.

Devnet crooked an eyebrow and wordlessly turned the water-filled barrel on top of him.

-I hope it takes you less time to refill this then-she snapped before turning away, her nose sticking up in an offended glare. Some things not even Samhain could change, and definitely old cranky Osveld's ungratefulness was one of them. The fact that she even bothered only reassured her believe that the fairies _had_ taken away her wits four years ago.

-Oh you are a _wicked_ one-Vanora chipped later on, when she told her the story-The man's at least seventy winters old!-.

-Eighty-two, I believe-she corrected with a grin.

-Devnet!-.

-C'mon, Van. He deserved it!-she picked little Nine up to clean her marmalade-stained face-Besides, I was only helping out of the kindness of my heart. A simple thank-you would've done it, and it would have saved him much more breath. At his age, it is not something he can spend lightly-her eyes twinkled with malice.

-The poor old brute only has nasty words and frustrated sexual fantasies to amuse himself with, let him be-.

Devnet snorted.

-Please, I doubt that his _Antiqueness_ has had an erection in the last twenty years-.

-What's an erection?-Nine chipped, putting the flowers she'd collected in Devnet's hair. She cast an eye in the child's mother direction, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

-A lot of handwork, dear-the auburn haired woman didn't even lift her face from the small basket she was stuffing with sweet treats; as if used to that kind of questions.

-Like…a toy?-Nine's eyes seemed to bulge out of her pretty little face-I want one too!-.

Devnet laughed and placed the girl back on the ground, pecking at her nose slightly.

-You'll have to wait till you're older to play with one of those, sweetie-replied Vanora, becoming her daughter to approach and kiss her cheek before running off.

-I am sure Bors would be _thrilled_ with the prospect-laughed Devnet, taking a sit beside her friend and starting to mend a shirt Gawain had asked her to fix. Vanora sneered.

-You're probably right. Oh, well-she gave an overdramatic sight, trying to stifle a smile-He can't expect any less considering the creature has ten brothers and sisters. Unfortunately, it is a family thing-.

-You said so, not me-.

Vanora chortled, giving the last touch to her family's small offering to the spirits of the other World, so they would bring them good luck the coming year.

-Now I'll have to find a place to put this where none of my children will reach it, or the seelie will find themselves with a basket full of crumps-she stepped on a chair to leave the present on top of a shelf-Anyway, going back to the apple subject. Will you be throwing a peel over your shoulder tonight?-.

Devnet snorted, shaking her head with amusement.

-To see what shape it falls in and know the first letter of my future husband's name? What good is a letter to me? That hardly reveals anything at all. No, I don't believe in such stupidity. _Ouch_!-she flinched when she pinched her finger with a needle. A round red blood drop popped over her skin and she sucked at the wound.

Vanora crooked and eyebrow, glancing at her for a moment with a strange smile, as if she knew something she wasn't supposed to and then turned back to her work.

-Look on the bright side, Devy, There are only very few male names of people you might know that start with an _"L"_-.

Her grip slipped and the needle went right through her fingertip again, causing her to yelp in both pain and surprised.

-_What ish thad shoupposhe do mean?_-she mumbled with her finger between her teeth.

-Honey, men might be so blind sometimes they wouldn't see a mountain _even_ if they were standing a top of it. But I am not. All that staring and kissing and fuss are not mere idle flirting. That is not how he plays, anyway-.

Devnet almoust choked in her own bemused laughter.

-Van, _please_! The very idea of it insults me! Besides, since when does a little bit of innocent flirting lead to marriage?-.

-You call that _innocent_? My, I really do not want to know the details of what you and that man do when you actually get dirty-.

Devnet wisely choose not to answer that remark.

When she got back to the headquarters late in the afternoon, she was alarmed to find a small escort of roman soldiers who bore an unknown uniform to her. Her feet froze momentarily, staring at the men in awe. It could only mean one thing. A message from Rome.

Panic filled her insides. They were ordering the knights to a mission, and if the instructions were sent straight from the heart of the Empire, it could only mean it was something of vital importance…and deadly dangerous.

With a scream caught up in her throat, she raced inside, faster than the shadow of a ghost. The door to the Round Table opened just as she reached for the knob, making her stumble inside and nearly knocking a man in a purple robe to the floor.

The roman moved one step back and stared at her with a startled expression. Devnet tilted her head sideways like a hunted dear. The roman seemed to snap back into character and with an arrogant tug at his robe, pushed her aside and stepped out of the room.

She turned to the men just as they erupted into cheers and laughter and shouts so loud she felt trapped inside an enormous cave.

-Wh-what happened? Who….-her words trailed off in confusion.

Galahad stood abruptly and raced around the table towards her. He pulled her into an ecstatic hug, crushing her ribs painfully over her lungs. He swirled her in the air, laughing like a child. Devnet burst out crying unexpectedly, joy pouring out of her eyes in tears. She didn't have a clue of what was going on, but she'd never seen her almoust twin as happy as he was right now.

- _Doç sòrre, Doç sòrre_-Galahad kept repeating in her ear, his voice hoarse with emotion. Devnet's heart burst with tenderness. The words were in his mother tongue; she knew what they meant. _"Sweet sister, sweet sister"_. She clung to him, hiccupping in a mixture of sobs and laughter.

Gawain joined the hug from behind, and she found herself squeezed between the two men drunk in euphoria. The blond knight took her face between his hands. His blue eyes twinkled with such happiness as she'd never seen before, despite him being forever cheerful.

-We're going home, Devy!-he exclaimed. His hands were actually trembling against her cheeks. Out of nowhere, he leaned over and pressed his lips against hers for a moment, before breaking away with a gleeful glimmer over his face. She didn't even react to the kiss.

His words had fallen over her like a hammer.

-_What!?-_she turned to Arthur, demanding and explanation, holding back the excitement as if expecting to have understood wrong and not wanting to get her hopes up over nothing. But the commander was smiling. It was the first smile free of melancholy and exhaustion she'd seen in his face for years.

-A letter from Rome arrived early this morning. My superiors have notified me that a very important man of the roman church, Bishop Germanus, is on his way to Britain, and should reach Hadrian's Wall in a matter of weeks-.

She felt even more lost than before.

-So?-.

Arthur's smile widened.

-This man's visit is no ordinary revision. He brings with him my knights' discharge papers-.

Devnet heart froze with emotion. She felt struck by a lighting of illuminated joy for the words she heard. After fifteen years of forced servitude to an empire they did not belong to…She screamed like a little girl and flung herself back in between Galahad and Gawain, who twirled around with her pressed between their chests, singing ridiculously childish songs.

She squeezed her way out and stumbled over to hug Dagonet, whom as usual picked her up into a giant's hug and kissed her forehead fondly. She cried in his neck, smiled through the tears and kissed his rough cheek, her eyes not leaving his calm green gaze.

Then runned to Bors, who actually grabbed her with one arm around his waist and threw her over his shoulder as he did when he got tired of her teasing, slapping her behind softly and jumping, causing her to yelp and laugh and cry above his almoust maniac laugh.

-Fine, fine!-she managed to say between giggles-Put me down!-for once, he did as he asked, and held her face as Gawain had.

-Please don't kiss me too-she joked.

-Nah…Nah-Bors shook his head and smiled fondly at her-Im just awfully fond of you, kid, even though you're a damn pain in my arse-.

She laughed and slapped the side of his head goofily.

-Go on, you fool. I believe you have a woman, and eleven children to tell the good news to-.

Bors let her face go, now looking at the door.

-Why you're right-he muttered, and then he smiled and shouted at the top of his lungs-I'VE GOT TO TELL VANORA SHE'LL HAVE A FREE MAN FROM NOW ON!"-.

Behind her, the knights were hugging each other, clasping each other's shoulders; shouting and cheering and laughing as if nothing could be wrong in the world.

Her hug with Tristan was silent and much shorter; but the intensity in it made her neck hurt, and she knew he was just as happy. She kissed his cheek and smiled at him…and he smiled back and hugged her again. That was all. That was more than enough.

And then Lancelot was behind the scout, smiling at her, and she reached her hand out for him to take. He pulled her softly out of Tristan's arms and bent in an almoust theatrical bow, kissing her knuckles with a playful smirk shining in his dark eyes. She laughed and pulled him in to a hug, closing her eyes and burying her face on his neck, inhaling deeply the scent she was most fond of.

-It feels like it was only yesterday that you said I could ride with you so I wouldn't stay behind. I can't believe that was fifteen years ago-she whispered. Tears now rolled silently down her face, but her smile was as big as ever.

He laughed at the memory of the stubborn five year old girl he'd pulled to sit in front of him in the saddle. There were dimples on his cheeks as he pulled away slightly to look at the face that memory had become.

-I know-his voice was husky, and yet filled with tenderness. Devnet beamed at him, her heart swelling with the powerful emotions he stirred inside her. Beyond the fights, beyond the sex, above everything else; this was the man she held closest, not to her heart, but to her very soul.

She hugged him again and placed a friendly kiss behind his ear half hidden beneath the curls before he put her down. To her surprise, he returned the gesture by landing his own lips on her forehead, and they seemed to linger a bit before he gave her one last smile and walked to join the rest of his brothers at arms.

She quietly moved to stand beside Arthur, lacing her arms around his own and smiling with pride and hopefulness at the men in front of them.

They'd endured all of it together. The pain, the loss, the worry. Fifteen years ago, this six and other fourteen had come to her and Arthur's solitary life, feeling it with bonds and a purpose. To see them back home. And now finally they were getting back what should have never been taken away from them. Freedom. And no one deserved it better than them.

-This is truly Samhain, the time for new beginnings, and change-she whispered to her friend, resting her head against the cold metal of his chainmail-I sense good things coming this way, Arthur-.

He patted her hand fondly.

-Yes, Little One. I believe they are-.

There was still much to be done before relaxing to the merriness of the festivity at night. Devnet was kept running up, down and sideways all over the village following and endless list of errands, favours and obligations that had to be done before night fall. And life did not stop for a celebration, so there were still the daily chores too. Helping Vanora with her children's laundry for an instance. It wasn't much of an obligation, but the poor woman had already so much in her hands, preparing the tavern for the evening, Devnet hadn't had the heart to forsake her to the overwhelming pressure of other chores.

Luckily, after this she was finally free to go to her room and prepare herself for the party.

She was coming out of the laundry, a basket full of Vanora's bastards' clean clothes resting on her hip, when she saw Lancelot sitting on the grass a few metres from the building, his face turned towards the soft hilly landscape and the harvest fields around the fortress. A timid dusk sun was sinking low, shyly showing itself through the rain clouds to the west. Its light caught in the man's hair, making it seem almoust blue. She smiled and made her way towards him, taking a sit beside him and putting the basket beside her.

-How come you're not at the tavern? You should be passed out drunk by now-she commented, studying his face. His eyes were serious as ever, dark depths that held so much behind, but the corners of his mouth twitched into the shadow of a smile when she sat beside him

-We're all waiting for nightfall. That's when the real fun begins-he flashed a smirk at her, his eyes playfully mysterious-At night everything break loose and dark things come out to play-.

She laughed and nudged him playfully. They fell into a reflexive silence. The sunset light mixed with the shadows in the aftermath of rain seemed to feel the air with a strange tingling sensation, _"magical, in a way"_ she thought. When she breathed in deeply, she could smell dampness, and nature and light.

-Thinking about what you'll do once you're free?-she asked, closing her eyes to enjoy a soft breeze that lifted and swirled strands of her dark long hair.

-First I've got to stay alive until the discharge papers actually get here -he answered with a bitter laugh.

-You've been staying alive for fifteen years, despite my secret attempts to kill you. A couple of weeks won't change anything-she assured, a smile on her voice.

Lancelot didn't answer straight away, but seemed to think deep into his soul before whispering:

-I never actually believed I'd live to this day…-.

Lancelot's confession caught her by surprise. She opened her eyes to find him back with his grave mood plastered over his handsome features. Her lips pouting with concern, she reached out and placed her tiny hand over his.

-But you did-she replied softly, closing her fingers around the palm of his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze-You've survived woad attacks, and Saxons pirates, and fatal wounds and the damn climate of this bloody Gods forgotten island, as you always complain-she smirked- And you've actually managed to survive the hordes of angry roman soldiers looking for your blood every time they found their mistress in your bed. To be honest, you've lasted longer than what I expected-the last remarks were more of a joke in an attempt to lift his spirits. It seemed to work for a second.

-Wow, _petite_. Your faith in me moves me to tears-he replied with a hoarse laugh.

She stared at him long. She knew him. Knew what it meant when his jaw was clenched so hard it seemed he was going to break his teeth, and his eyes seemed to wonder and lose themselves in nothingness and his breath was tense because he was trying to keep calm despite the storm bursting inside him.

-You don't know what to do once you are free-she realised, her glaze still upon his soul-You've lived this life of loneliness and pain; and you've lost all sort of beliefs and hopes for the days to come-.

Lancelot answered her with a silence that meant more than words. She stared at him intensely, trying to figure out how to help him out of his own labyrinth but knowing in the end the struggle was his own.

-Won't you go back to Sarmatia?-.

Her question was almoust a whisper. She feared his answer. Feared he'd ride away from her and that she'd never see him again, never feel his eyes on her, teasing her, lusting for her, and looking out for her too.

Lancelot lifted his face and sighted, shaking his head at the thoughts of his long lost home. Sarmatia was nothing but a memory of never-ending grasslands to gallop across with freedom against his face; but that memory sometimes seemed more like a fantasy. As for his family, their faces were no longer clear in his mind. Sometimes he found he couldn't even remember their names without thinking hard. The only real thing from them he had was the token of the fanged beast a little girl, his sister, had given him before he left. He toyed with it now, between his long fingers, as he toyed with star-crossed ideas in his mind. He had things much more _real_ than that.

-If I did…-his voice was serious, husky. It bore to Devnet's very soul and she shuddered, looking at him, holding his gaze with the same intensity. Waiting.-Would you come with me?-.

She'd seen it coming, but the question shocked her none the less. She bit her lip painfully until she stated blood in her mouth. She let go of his hand and stared deeply into the dying day. _Would you come with me? _The question seemed to hang above them like and omen, and it was up to her to decide whether if it was good or bad. _"Yes…No…"…_

Could she leave the only home she knew for a man she hadn't even figured out her feelings for? At that moment, the bond between them seemed carved out in crystal; clear to the view, but so very fragile…

She looked at him, her inner conflict written across her features. His face held questions of his own as he struggled to figure out the many opposite feelings stirring inside him. They locked eyes for a moment but neither of them dared to say anything out in the open; because it all seemed foggy; confusing and uncertain at that point. They'd spent five years, if not longer, postponing this moment, pretending it would never come, because it was always so much easier when they didn't involve strong feelings. But now the events were rushing over them and pushing them to define a relationship they'd always been to reluctant to admit.

What they had…was it strong enough for them to go away _together_?

Instead, she found herself shoving her feelings back in the dark corner of her mind she kept them hidden in and smirking playfully at him.

-I've got to go up and dress myself up for the night. Would _you_ come with me?-.

She wasn't sure if it was relieve or disappointment what she saw in the man's dark gaze. But he too grinned wickedly

-Surprise me, love-he leaned closer to whisper in her ear, grazing her neck on purpose with his lips- But know that whatever you wear, I will still gladly tear it away from you-.

She giggled, pushing him away and standing on her feet.

-The only thing you'd find are all the daggers I keep hidden beneath my clothes to cut of curious little fingers like yours-she sneered, tossing her hair over her shoulder, making sure it caressed his face in the process. She'd washed it this morning, and the faint scent of dried rose and violet petals was enough to drive him crazy, as was the softness of the brown curls.

-You want me too much to hurt me or my curious _and skilful_ little fingers-he wiggled his dark eyebrows with a naughty glimmer in his eyes and patted her butt softly, sending her off-See you at Vanora's, doll-.

She left the laundry basket with one of Vanora's older children, Three before locking herself inside the sanctuary of her room. But even while she brushed her hair, braiding tiny flowers around her brow, her mind was restless. Lancelot's simple question had triggered off not only the familiar contradictory sensations regarding their peculiar relationship, but also many thoughts she'd tried to avoid nearly all her life.

Her first reaction back at the Round Table had been one of pure joy, but now, as she looked more into the matter at hand she realised all the possibilities implied in the knights' releasing.

Twenty five years ago; this very day had come to her father, Aynor. He had been rather young, not older than Lancelot or Gawain were now. He had survived the fifteen years of servitude to the empire. Fifteen years of pain, and blood, and death on an island carved out of cold stone and grey skies; so much different from the eternal grasslands he'd seen when he was a child. He'd endured hard-cold tragedy, the kind that leads any man to an emotional breaking point, not only by seeing men he'd ended bonding with like brothers in that cold inhospitable land fall and die before they had a chance to taste freedom, but also by all the kills committed to people he had no real confrontation with, people he had nothing against but an unfair contract made for him hundreds of years ago. The same people that his wife belonged to.

She knew that throughout his service, father had treasured the memories of his childhood: the toothless smile of an elderly grandmother, the warmth of a mother's cheek pressed against his face in the cold; the carefree laughter of brothers and sisters whose faces he no longer remembered clearly. But those memory did not belong to the people that were now somewhere in Sarmatia, believing him dead, probably, if they ever thought of him at all. But in Britain he had met a woman, someone far more real, someone he could touch, feel her warmth instead of just remember it vaguely. A beloved face he saw every day and he could not bring himself to depart from.

So, he had stayed, and married his woad priestess, and fathered a tiny brunette girl that grew amongst new knights of his homeland, new boys that had come on a cold autumn night just as he had so many years before. Would her knights make the same choice? Or would they depart from her, in search of a long lost memory, or whatever was left of it, like Arthur would do in search of his blessed Rome?

Despite her foul thoughts, she could hear cheerful music in the distance, rumbling friendly in her ears and she had to smile to herself. The celebrations must have already started. Not wanting to miss the Samhain bonfires and games, she dismissed the anxieties of future decisions and embraced the joy of the moment. Though times of change and turning points might be coming her way, tonight was all about the party, the fun, and the merry company. All of those she loved would be waiting at the tavern. Not wanting to waste any more time, she raced out of the headquarters into the night.

While she'd been changing into her dress, the fortress had come alive and turned into something mythical and exotic, halfway between a fantasy and a nightmare. There was people on every street, lingering in every stand, buying drinks, and good luck totems and small gifts to offer the Gods and the dead. Men were preparing the bonfires to be lit at midnight and burn away all the old and the bad of the year, so it would rebirth stronger and better and good from the ashes. Drunk laughter and singing filled the air, along with the merry songs that came from Vanora's.

**Glosarry:**

**Doç sòrre:** Sweet Sister


	5. III) Turns of the Wheel (Part Two)

When she arrived people had started dancing at the tavern, to the beat of a merry song. She saw her knights were amongst the crowd, laughing and grabbing the maids that swirled their way, spinning them in the air and then switching to another. The people span in a circle, clapping and stumping their feet against the ground. Some sang. The girls' hair twirled around them, they held hands in a circle and sprinted around the men. Gawain spotted her standing just outside the crowd, and with a giddy smile, grabbed her hand and pulled her into the fun.

Devnet was very small, wich made her a light dancer. She laughed as she took Gawain's hands, and they stepped side to side, their arms extended in front of each other, palm against pal and fingers intertwined. He twirled her around and then she spun towards Dagonet. The giant grabbed her by the waist with both hands and lifted her to the skies. She laughed, feeling her heart swell with joy and adrenaline. She felt like a child and a woman at the same time. She didn't remember the last time she'd had such an invincible, light-hearted, honest fun.

She danced, moving her skirts and shoulders with a cocky smile. She bowed to Prya, the girl that shared Galahad's bed. They placed a hand on the opposite side of each other's hip, lifted the other arm in the air, locking them over their heads and twirled around. Her extended hand was taken by a handsome Roman soldier with whom she danced the same steps she'd made with Gawain. They switched partners again, and faces of both men and women paraded in front of her. All laughing and all smiling. She felt high in adrenaline and happiness as she spanned around in small jumps with Galahad, her hands on his shoulder and his on her waist. In an impulse out of pure joy, she stepped on her tiptoes and pecked his lips, laughing like a child.

Bors lifted her and swirled with such strength she felt dizzy, but loved it as she spun, stumping her small faerie feet as she turned over herself. Still sprinting, she spotted Lancelot watching from a nearby table, a mug of ale in his hand and a smile. She jumped towards him, tossing his drink away and grabbing his hands firmly.

-Dance with me-she whispered completely out of breath, pulling him to his feet.

He shook his head.

-I don't dance-.

-Yes you do. The tough, serious guy image might work with other girls, but not with me. Let's dance-.

She dragged him towards the circle of dancers, and he grinned despite himself. She laughed and locked her arms behind his head. Everyone was dancing in pairs now, all the couples whirling in a circle. The women would spin towards the centre of circle, clap hands with the girl beside her and then whirl back to their partner. She laughed when she tripped and crashed against Lancelot's chest, but he caught her and grabbed her waist, and lifted her, spinning her in the air while he laughed at her happy face.

The music got faster, and they were whirling so fast their vision got blurry. Devy jumped, twirled, was lifted to the air always to fall back to Lancelot's arms, ready to catch her. The dancers started to jump around the circle, grabbing the person opposite to them by the hand and pulling them towards them. They twirled and moved to the next person, until they were back to their original spot with their original couple. Lancelot eagerly pulled her away from the man she was dancing with before she got back to the dark knight. He held her possessively against his chest and she laughed spinning in his arms. She stopped, her face mere inched from his. He had the biggest grin on his face; his eyes twinkled and he looked almoust like a giddy child. He lifted her up in the air again, looking up at her as he spun over his feet; and all the other men around them did the same with their girls. And then the music ended and everyone clapped and cheered. Devnet laughed, clapping her tiny hands until they went numb. She hugged Lance, feeling dizzy and drunk in joy and delight.

He pulled away gently and aimed to return back to his table just as a new song started. She stopped him, holding him by his belt. He turned to her and she grabbed him by the fold of his collar, opened to expose just a skim of his chest. She pulled him to her, so close their breaths got mangled together.

-Im not done with you yet-she breathed into him with a wicked smile.

The new song was different, slow and deep, like a flame building into a razing fire. A few couples stayed to dance, but most were too tired. Devnet wasn't. Her body begged her to keep moving and burn the energy boiling inside her. Lancelot leaned to lay his forehead against her, looking straight into her eyes with his piercing coal-blacks. His smile was replaced by a wolfish, almoust hungry smirk.

They fell into an enticing dance that seemed to push away the remains of the world around them. The music had dropped into a slow suggestive tone of husky drums and the lone cry of a flute. Devnet's arms were locked behind Lancelot's neck, his faced leaned against her and their bodies pasted together. She moved and swayed her entire body slowly, suggestively, following the silent, almoust mythical rhythm. Lancelot's hands were on her hips, following the seductive motion of her legs. He leaned into her, she leaned into him, immersed in a lustful dance that had them dragged into the burning passion that always seemed to stir between them.

Heat burned beneath the clothes that separated their bodies. Forehead to forehead, nose to nose, chest to chest and so on. The only part they so very reluctantly kept away from each other was their lips. The effort it took them to resist from kissing wild hot passionately had them panting softly against each other's mouth, the caress of their warm breath enhanced by wine, making it all the more unbearable.

_"Just a small movement forward and it all blows up"_. They were treading on thin ice. Despite the flirtatious way the acted around of each other, no one actually imagined they'd actually ever been in bed together. The men could be almoust deadly overprotective with her; and if they found out they'd probably murder Lancelot for sleeping with their Little One, and lock her up in a convent

-_Petite_-he muttered soundlessly, out of breath; his words grassing her lips, kissing them.

She bit her lower lip at his husky tone. Lancelot held his breath sharply, his grip on his waist getting stronger; the smirk on his face getting wickeder. Devnet's heart was pounding inside her, its beating ringing so loud in her ears she couldn't even hear the musician's instruments anymore. She danced to the rhythm of a much more primal song that came from inside them, a song of wildly beating hearts, passionate glances and breaths so close to each other they could not even tell wich was wich. Their mouths were so close now, lips slightly parted, air coming in and out in short gasps. Blood burning like liquid fire in their veins. Burning. Longing for each other.

Just when she was sure they would not be able to hold back any longer, the song ended, and the whole village seemed to hold its breath. Lancelot's eyes were pitch black with lust. She was panting and flushed pink with arousal. The silence that suddenly fell over the people in the tavern, however, made her step back from him and look around, blinking.

The couples that had been dancing had stopped on their tracks. Everyone had left what they had been doing to look at the pair with astonishment and awkward, slightly lost expressions, not sure what to make of what they'd just seen. The dead silence weighted over her like a massive stone brick, and she felt like suddenly it wasn't her, but the world spinning around her.

And then Bors, Gods bless his soul, saved the night:

-Is it just me, or did it suddenly get _hot_ in here?-he roared with a teasing tone.

She could've _kissed_ the man. Everyone burst into laughter, clapping and teasing them with cheers. Some even started calling out to Lancelot, yelling at him to kiss her (some even dared him to do more than that); but she shook her head at the smug audience, holding back a smile. She couldn't have handled anymore of the dark knight right now without hell breaking lose, and the both knew it.

-It's the ale, you idiot-she called to the burly man, forcing a smile back to her face-Ale warms ya' up, and you, my friend, are so bloody drunk you won't be pissing straight these night…_again_!-.

Laughter rang around her, and she retrieved her peace of mind. The air seemed light again and safe to breathe. With a heavy sight she pushed her way to the counter, stole a cup from a man right under his nose and emptied it in four swallows. The liquor burned like boiling oil down her throat and she coughed.

-Woow-Vanora took the cup from her-Easy, Dev. That's the strongest wine we serve -.

-_Fantastic_. Because I intend to outdrink your own lover and end with such a hung over I'll have to stay in bed for a week-.

She hadn't been thinking; completely caught up in the bloody spell of Lancelot's black eyes and some bloody, stupid suggestive music. Damn it.

Vanora could see the frustration in her friend's face.

-Honey?-.

-Mhm?-.

-_Stop_ drinking and talk to me-.

Devnet pouted as she looked straight into the hazel eyes of her best friend. Like a little girl that wanted to defy her mother, she took another sip of ale from a second cup she'd poured to herself.

-I just don't want anyone to…-she paused and lowered her voice, leaning to whisper to her friend-I don't want the others to find out there is more to Lancelot and me than what they imagine. It'd just cause unnecessary trouble…-.

-Why do you think that?-Vanora seemed rather surprise. She picked and empty cup and cleaned it with a cloth-I believe it's only to be expected. You've spend your entire life surrounded by this men. They are closer to you than anyone else. I always knew you'd end up bedding one or two…maybe even marry one of them-.

Devnet let out a laugh.

-That is _so not_ going to happen. Save for Lance, they're all like brothers to me. I mean, I could've had and actual brother of my own flesh and blood, and there wouldn't had been any difference. As for Lancelot…I don't even think he knows what the word _"marriage"_ means-that was true-No, no, that part of our relationship is purely carnal, no feelings involved-only half true.

Vanora giggled.

-I get your point. Still, it shouldn't surprise any of them that you've shared bed with Lancelot. It was bound to happen anyway-she smirked-To be honest, they must have seen it coming. You two could light up the midnight bonfire with your little game-.

Devnet traced the border of her cup absentmindedly with her finger.

-It's not about whether they saw it coming or not. It's because they overprotect me. All of them. They all'll go nuts. You know Lance is not exactly the man you'd want near your little sister. I mean, the flirting, even some kissing they could handle, there's no harm in that. But if they find out about our _"friends with benefits"_ thing; Woads and Saxons be damned, forget about Rome, to hell with the contract. It's _us_ they'll go after-.

Her friend rolled her eyes, leaning against the counter with a hand on her hips.

-I _really_ doubt it will come to that, Devnet-she observed sceptically-Lancelot's their friend. They won't start hating him just because he got under your skirt. And they won't scold at you like a little child either. You're a big girl who knows what she's doing…I hope. If they get angry; they'll end up coming to terms with it-.

Devnet was halfway through her third cup and was already quite tipsy. She narrowed her eyes, trying to focus, as she snorted with and overdramatic gesture.

-Are we even talking about the _same_ group of men!?-.

Vanora sighted and leaned over to her, pushing the jar of ale away from the brunette's small white hands.

-Not that it guarantees anything, but it _is_ Samhain. Maybe the boys might be touched by a…change of… heart- she smiled, tapping the tip of her nose lightly with every word.

Devnet giggled a bit and offered her a lopsided grin.

-Not a chance-she laughed and hugged her best friend, knowing that at least _she_ had her back no matter not.

Special food cooked just for the occasion was brought out from the kitchen, and after helping herself, Devnet took a sit at the usual table, between Bors and Lancelot, laughing over funny stories collected around the group. Bors's bastards were constantly pestering about in pairs, in groups of three, four and even five, overexcited with all that was to be done. The children and the adults alike took turns in the games and trials, until Gawain fell inside the apple-wobbling barrel along with Six and Seven, and then their mother decided it was time to slow down.

When Bors finally convinced Vanora to join the rest, Devnet stood up, offering her chair after noticing how tired her friend look.

-Oh, I don't want to steal your chair, dear. I'll just-.

-You want find another spare chair, Van, look around you!-Devnet motioned around the tavern, where people had started sitting on the tables because of the lack of chairs-Sit down, I've got my own personal couch for this occasions-.

With those words she plopped carelessly on Lancelot's lap, smiling giddily. The knights rolled their eyes and Devnet mocked their gesture with a silly expression before bursting out laughing, her slim little fingers closing over the arm Lancelot had around her waist.

-DEVY!-.

Before Devnet had time to brace herself, Nine flung her tiny frame over her lap, knocking the air out of her and pushing her back against Lancelot with the force of the jump.

-_Whoa_, easy now, Miss Unleashed-she managed to blurter. She heard Lancelot's stifled groan when her hips sank against his in a manner that could very much bring other activities to their mind. She nudged him discretely, sitting the little girl properly. Nine's grin was sheepish.

-Sorry, I tripped-her neck hunched against her shoulders like a tortoise-Sorry, uncle Lance-she added, peering shyly over Devnet's shoulder.

-Oh, don't mind _me_, sweetheart-he replied amusingly, winking at the little girl-According to _petite _here, Im just the couch-.

Nine turned back curiously.

-Why _do_ they call you _petite_, Devy?-.

They amused the youngers with the story of how Galahad and Lancelot had given her the nickname after her almoust none-existent high. It had been target of the men's puns since she could remember.

Between the stories and the joking, Devnet forgot about time itself. Her heart beating in unison with all of the others around her, feeling the fun and the happiness swelling inside them like a common soul, _those_ were the times she felt truly _alive_. Her ears rang with Bors vociferous laughter and her nose filled with the scent of little Nine's hair. She could feel Lancelot's breath near her ear every time he leaned over to talk. Galahad fetched more ale for everyone and Gawain was helping Eight chop her pork, wincing every time the boy tugged at his braids. Dagonet had about three kids dangling from his back and she spotted Tristan sharing an apple with a very shy Six. They pestered Arthur into kissing a girl. Nine declared her eternal love to Lancelot completely out of the blue, much to the amusement to the young man, who grinned and tousled her hair. Galahad pulled Prya into a dance, and to everyone's surprise Tristan offered his hand to Devnet and twirled her off to the dancefloor. Bors and Vanora shared tender caresses and kisses, much to their children's embarrassment.

Everyone was laughing, sharing, hugging, eating and drinking away the night fully dedicated to their enjoyment and happiness, in the warmth of merry company.

When midnight was upon the night sky, the whole town gathered around the pyre set for the bonfire. A dark haired old man, and an equally brunet boy approached the pyre hand in hand, one holding a torch, the other holding a chunk of carbon.

-Tonight-the elder's voice was clear despite his age, strong and full of life-Culminates yet another turning of the wheel of life, and the borders between the dead and the living grow thin before our eyes. The impossible shall become possible, and fantasy shall dance hand in hand with reality. Tonight, those who've crossed over, and those who stayed behind, will once again be together-.

Silence had fallen over the yard, everyone listening with respect and eagerness. People took a moment to silently reflect over that wich had passed, the good and the bad, the gain and the loss. Those who died and those who breathed for the first time. Excitement hang in the air under the spell of past memories and a new beginnings. Then, the little boy opened his mouth to recite his own part of the speech:

-Thus begins the new turn of life, rebirthing from the ashes of the past. Let us walk all together through the darkness to reach the coming light, hand in hand with the Gods of our fate! Samhain is upon us!-.

With said words, the boy and the man cast the coal and the torch over the pyre, and the whole thing lit up in a single explosion of heat and light, sending up sparks of gold and orange into the night sky. The entire yard burst into euphoric cheering, lifting their hands up in the air and clapping them together. Hugs and kisses where exchange along with good luck bidding. Devnet was hugged, pulled up in the air, kissed and tousled more times than she could count, and she was quite sure she didn't even know some of the people who hugged her. The bastards were jumping over her and the other knights, and dancing around their mother and father. Arthur and Lancelot were hugging and clasping each other's shoulders, jesting over something. Tristan had grabbed a passing girl and kissed her full in the mouth. Dagonet was hidden beneath the mountain of children jumping up and down on him. Devnet was pulled out of her feet and lifted up, sitting between Galahad and Gawain's shoulders. She yelped and giggled, waving her hand at Arthur with a queenly smile.

The more important ritual of the night was taking place now. It was believed that the smoke of the fire cleaned and carried away the bad vibes and forces linked to each person, so everyone would cross through a smoky pass cleared away especially in between the flames. Men and women flanked the entrance and the exit, singing traditional songs to encourage the passenger. People clustered as close to the fire as they could; some of them throwing old object symbolizing things past into the flames, others simply seeking it's comforting warmth and blessing light. Of course, the night did not miss the usual man who'd had way too much to drink already and his ass caught on fire. Only to be aided by an equally drunk best friend who, with the best intentions, spilled his own mug over the flames, forgetting that ale only fuelled the fire further.

When Devnet's turn came to pass through the smoke tunnel, she took her time, allowing the irradiating heat to burn painfully against her skin, orange with the fire's glow. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, concentrating on the smell of purifying smoke.

She danced lightly across the flames. It was like being in the very heart of the gods, sprinting and bowing her head to receive their blessing. The heat burned away her anxieties and the smoke cleared away to reveal what would come. _Metaphorically_, of course, because when she twirled out of the bonfire, the only thing awaiting for her in between the plumes of smoke was Lancelot.

She crashed into him, losing her footing in an almoust too cheesy way and falling straight into his chest. He stopped her fall with a teasing grin.

-My lady-he greeted her mockingly, his grip getting tighter when she tried to take a step back.

-Sir knight-.

Their faces were a breath away from touching, challenging each other with teasing smirks, tickling each other's face with their breath. Devnet stifled a laugh when Lancelot's lips graced hers, just as they'd done back at the dance. She smiled playfully

-You, my lady, shall pay for what you've made me endure this evening-.

_"Oh, Im quite sure I won't regret any of it_ "she thought smugly, parting her lips when he claimed them. She sighted contently, locking those deep curls greedily in her hands, pulling his face closer. Tiny ashes crumbled into dust in her fingertips. Their kisses tasted of strong ale and smoke. The perfect combination of fire.

Their feet stumbled somewhat clumsy to the refuge of a dark alley before someone spotted them between the clouds of smoke. They knocked several unidentified objects in the process, caught up in their scandalous affair. Devnet's only intrest at the moment was breathing in every single one of his kisses.

Lancelot lifted her easily and sat her on a barrel, pressing her knees at either side of his hips. Every burning touch, every breathless sight, every tug at his hair and every patch of smooth skin exposed to him drove him completely out of his mind. Shut him out of the rest of the world, making all of his five senses revolve around the smoothness of that tiny hot body trembling and twisting to get closer; the bitter wine, honey sweetened smoky taste of that mouth avidly leaning to his, begging to be kissed over and over again; the innerving smell of rose, and violet and smoke that emanated from her hair; the melodious cry of her muffled moans and sights lost to the back of his throat. Her image burned behind his closed eyelids, a carving of temptation from the very first day she'd become more woman than girl. The fact that she was in a way unclaimable, not only because of the other knights' overprotective instincts, but because of her own stubborn, volatile nature that was constantly challenging his; made her just more irresistible for him. Gods knew he was no saint, but this girl was his biggest sin, only because she was the only one he truly, deeply cared about.

A chattering sound broke the lover's effusive making out. Devnet jumped in her sit with a little shriek, looking around in alarm. She hugged herself to the knight.

Something meowed in the dark.

-Stay very still-whispered Lancelot close to her ear-I've heard cats feed on human flesh-.

She giggled, pushing him away and hiding her laugh behind the palms of her hand.

-Shut up, it _could_ have been a person-.

-A _meowing_ person?-he crooked a thick dark eyebrow, amused.

-_Shut up _and kiss me-.

The man leaned over, but before he could own those enticing rose petals, she slipped away like wind, laughing between the shadows of the alley and racing away. Lancelot chuckled, knowing she expected him to chase her.

-I _will_ catch you, you know?-he called after her tiny curvy silhouette cut out against the light by the end of the street.

-Then you won't mind a little cat and mouse game-she challenged melodically-Perhaps you might get that kiss in the end-.

The handsome man shook his head, his eyes lifted to the skies. He counted to ten in his head, and broke into a run. Devnet jumped with a little yelp of excitement, stumbling backwards a few steps before turning and racing off.

Thankfully, almoust everyone was still by the bonfire and the streets were clear, but that did not keep Devnet from tripping and nearly knocking off a centurion's head.

-Sorry-she mumbled, getting back on her feet and giggling over her shoulder. Lancelot pushed pass the soldier, knocking him down on the floor again on purpose.

She twisted between the alleys until she crossed beneath a stone archway that lead to the healers' gardens, where various plants and flowers were kept, not only for medicine, but for the simple beauty of them. The nocturne flowers liberated their scents to mix in the air with the smoke. Devnet slowed down, ducking slightly to hide herself between the bushes. A fair moon bathed the foliage in white and silver, turning her surroundings into an ethereal, dreamlike landscape. She could here Lancelot's muffled steps in the grass, following her like a shadow. She giggled, walking backwards as to look at his face. He was grinning amusingly.

-I think I've let you win for long enough-.

Before Devnet had time to react, he'd covered the distance between them and thrown her over her shoulder as easily as you could've tossed a lamb. The tiny woman squeaked and giggled, raining her fairy-like fists over the broad of his back, without causing any damage. Lancelot laughed, spinning around with her still over his shoulder, making her scream in delight like a five year old girl.

-Put me down_! Honestly_, Lancelot!-she managed to gasp, giggling uncontrollably.

He started singing at the top of his lungs, a random senseless song about a dancing trees and naked mad women.

-Gods! You are a complete lunatic! Put me down-she cried, twisting over his shoulder when he tickled her-You are insane!-she extended her hands to the grass beneath her; she could feel her body slip from Lancelot's shoulder; the man's hands struggling to hold her.

-What the hell are you doing!?-.

-What does it look like? Im trying to get away-she laughed, pulling her body further down his back.

-You'll just smash your head against the floor!-Lancelot stumbled backwards –Wait! We are…you'll make us…_DEV_!-.

They crashed down over the grass. Lancelot hit the back of his head against the floor with a low groan, chuckling with a painful smile and a silent "_Ow"_. Devnet pushed her palms against the earth and pulled her body over Lancelot's.

-Sweet Brigid! Are you all right?-she touched the man's temple, gently tilting his head sideways to examine the back of his head. She could feel a small, hard bump already beginning to swell. He chuckled, his eyes still closed.

-Talk about rough foreplay, huh?-he teased, barely opening one eye beneath a lifted eyebrow to look at her. Devnet giggled.

-That was not part of the plan-she admitted, kissing the tip of his long straight nose.

-Well, I can think of a few things you could make it up for me-he pulled away a handful of her hair and kissed her as slow as a rose's flowering, intendedly sucking at her bottom lip until she could feel her blood pulse inside it. She smiled against his lips, sighting with pleasure.

They rolled playfully on the grass, laughing in between kisses, leaves and flower petals mangling in their tousled hair. She ended laying beneath him, watching how his face hovered above her with a wishful smile, cut against the stars in the sky. Lancelot traced the outline of her face almoust tenderly, running his finger over the small group of very faint freckles on her cheeks. He traced the shape of her nose, stopping right at the tip and tapping it softly, like he'd done the first time they'd ever talked. There was something deep and heavy, yet comforting in his dark eyes, desire and tenderness playing an equal part over his expression. That something send shivers down Devnet's spine and into her very heart, making it jump perkily inside her chest.

-So…-she whispered-What is it that you had in mind?-.

He grinned shaking his head with a low chuckle at her joke, before pulling her to a white-hot passionate kiss. Her lips played teasingly a game of hide and seek with his, sometimes covering his mouth, others tracing lazy roads down his neck, or over the hair covering his jaw until she reached his ear. She pushed against his chest gently, straightening to sit on her knees right in front of him. Lancelot pulled her closer, biting at her neck gently. Nevertheless, she was sure there would be rosy marks there in the morning. She moaned softly in his ear, making him growl from the depths of his chest. She leaned back, smiling huskily. Her fingers closed around the front laces of the leather corset she wore over the dress and began undoing them with haste. He stopped her with a smirk.

-Oh, no. The last time I let _you_ do _my_ work, you ended up losing my twin blades, cutting yourself in the process, and yet it was _me_ who suffered the consequences when Arthur found out-.

-C'mon! In my defence, if _you_ had warned me beforehand how heavy they were, none of that would've happened _and_ the woad prisoner would not have escaped either. Besides, _this_ has nothing to do with that-.

He chortled amusingly, shaking his head.

-Why don't we just leave my chores to me, and you…-he took her tiny hands, completely swallowing them between his own, and directed them to the strings beneath his hips, his eyes gone dark with lust. He added in a low tone-Take care of yours-.

She snorted softly, her lips teasing his.

-You are incorrigible-she muttered, before they kissed again.

Only someone who had received the minimal woad scouting training at some point in their life would've heard it and known they were steps. Anyone else would've assumed it was just the wind between the trees. But Devnet had learned a few things from her mother's keen.

She opened her eyes in an instant, pushing away from Lancelot with a small gasp. The knight spun immediately, pulling a dagger hidden somewhere in his boot and protecting Devnet with his own body, holding the weapon suspended over his head. His entire body assumed a defensive position without even thinking about it, eyes scanning quickly all the odds in his favour and against him in case of a possible confrontation. All this in less than a minute, thanks to years of training and warring.

**As always, please tell me what you think ! ;) You know you want to *wiggles eyebrows suggestively* **


	6. III) Turns of the Wheel (Part Three)

A woad woman was standing a few feet away, eyeing them with curiosity. She wore dark clothes that clung to her body so they would not get in her way. Blue dye coloured her face and arms, and her coppery brown braids were held behind her head in a tight tail. There was a quiver and a bow protruding from her back, but she seemed to have no intentions of using them.

Devnet squinted her eyes, trying to match the woman's face with one in her memory, of a little girl.

-Brona?-she ventured. Lancelot lowered his knife, eyeing Devnet over his shoulder.

The scout's expression could have been friendly, if they had not been separated for years without seeing each other. Instead, it was only a stranger's smile.

-Devnet-she greeted-Might the turning of the Silver Wheel tonight bring good fortune to your coming days-.

-And might the blessing of The _Dagda_ and his lady, the _Morrigan_ fall over you tonight-Devnet finished the usual Samhain greeting.

Brona nodded in appreciation and then her hazel gaze fell upon Lancelot, suspicious and somewhat resentful.

-And wich of Artorius men, pray sir, would you be?-she inquired quietly.

Lancelot held his head up, not intimidated in the least. His dark eyes glimmered with danger under the moonlight.

-I am the one called Lancelot-he thought for a moment and then added reluctantly-_My lady_-.

Devnet decided to step in before the hostility between them turned into a real confrontation.

-What business brings you here, Brona?-.

The woman averted her eyes from the sarmatian and focused on her.

-He wants to see you-she informed bluntly-_Now_-.

Devnet's eyes widened.

-He-he is here? I mean, out there? I mean…now? I-wait, what?-she got tangled and confused by her own words.

-Yes. He awaits you by the edge of the forest-Brona explained impatiently, stamping her boot against the grass. Her eyes turned again to Lancelot, this time with disapproval-You must come _alone_-she emphasized the last word with contempt.

Lancelot shrugged sardonically.

-Worry not, lady-he replied with fake courtesy-I am quite sure she does not need me to escort her-.

-She has me for that, _outsider_-she spat resentfully.

The man seemed amused.

-I've been called worse. Is that your best insult?-.

-_Lancelot_-Devnet pointed out with an edge of warning in her voice-That is _hardly_ necessary-.

She puffed with annoyance, standing on her feet and shaking off the herbs in her hair- Take it to my grandfather to organise secret family reunions when I am in the middle of something-.

Brona blinked with fake innocence.

- I _do_ hate to interrupt your…business-she crossed her arms over her chest-But he was very insistent about it-.

_"Oh Im sure you do"_, she rolled her eyes and shot Lancelot an apologizing look.

_"Do you mind if I go?"_

He needed no words to answer that either.

_"Do what you must, but be careful"_

She released a heavy sight and nodded in Brona's direction, telling her to lead the way. She kissed Lancelot's rough cheek gently before following the woad scout.

An ancient door Devnet had not known to be there until now got them out into the fields. The full moon was at its highest point, and the light exposed them to any kind of eyes, but there were no guards a top of the wall by that time. Everyone was celebrating. She trailed behind Brona, their feet trotting lightly over the grass and making no sound as they marched towards the treeline.

Excitement and nerves wrestled inside Devnet, making her blood ring in her ears like a drum inside her head. It was always like that when it came to the Woads. She was a stranger and that made her uncomfortable and sometimes even afraid, yet she longed with all her heart to forge real bonds with them at the same time.

However, she bitterly realised she had not been amongst her mother's keen for more than a few hours since before her father died. Her only contact with the tribe were the rare occasions when her grandfather decided to check up on her. And it had been fifteen months since he'd last done so.

And the Samhain atmosphere made the visit seem even more important and intimidating.

Entering the woods was like entering another world, one of ancient magic and mythical wind blowing though the leaves. Even this close to Hadrian's, she already felt like in a foreign country that secretly called to her heart. Mist crawled around the base of the trees, and she could feel the eyes of the Woad scouts over them, even if there was no human sign in the forest; like spirits looking for her soul. Her skin prickled at the back of her neck.

He appeared from between the leaves without a single warning. He could have been part of the forest, just another bush amongst the trees; as a spirit stepping out from the thickets. Her grandfather's mysterious face was a mixture of misty blue and a wild chestnut beard. And two eyes, more mythical than human, stared down at her with a solemn graveness that was out of this world; ethereal.

Devnet found herself face to face with her grandfather, and she felt no more significant than a pebble by the side of the road. Behind her, Brona had drifted off with the trees before she had even noticed her absence.

-Grandfather-Devnet greeted, her voice trembling with respect as she bowed her head gently towards the imposing man.

If Merlin was surprised to see his granddaughter after fifteen months, he did not show any signs of it. He could have been carved in wood for all Devnet knew, until he opened his mouth in replay.

-Child-his voice was neither affectionate nor was it cold. She supposed it was only to be expected from a man who barely knew her, yet with whom she shared an important blood link-It has been long since this place last heard your steps-.

Shame washed over her, knowing she had neglected her heritage and that Merlin was deeply disappointed with her, even though there was no hint of it in his voice. His silence was worth all the words in the world.

-I have been negligent on my family-she admitted in a faint whisper, not daring to look up. The woad leader's fingers rested beneath her chin and slowly lifted her face. His supernatural eyes never left hers. It had always been hard to hold her grandfather's gaze, but she endured it. Her face reddened with embarrassment.

Merlin, however, looked almoust forgiving.

-All shall pass in its due time-he said mysteriously. He had that innerving habit of saying things without explaining any details. It was like speaking in riddles.

-Let us walk-he breathed in deeply and signalled for her to follow him. Devnet realised the air she had not realised she'd been holding.

Merlin was walking away even deeper into the forest. Devnet fell in beside him, stealing furtive glances in his direction. She was under the impression that the man hadn't changed in all the years she'd known him. He looked exactly the same as the first time she remembered seeing him, and not a day older. It puzzled her, and for a moment she considered that the rumours about his immortality might as well be true.

She waited for him to speak first, not really sure how to behave around this strange man she was somehow related to. Her hands were clenched around the folds of her skirt, her eyes fixed upon the ground, unable to hide her nerves.

-Every time I see you, child, you look more and more like your mother-.

Devnet jumped when he spoke so suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence. She detected a pained tone in his voice, and for a moment fell terribly sorry for her him. Merlin had fathered seven children, of wich Aine had been the youngest and the only girl, so he had always been fond of her in a way he could not have been with his other children. Her death had hurt him more than any other.

Of those seven sons, only five had made it to adulthood, and three of them died before having children. Aine and Cerywon, Devnet's uncle, had given Merlin three grandchildren between the two, and both had died short after. Devnet and her cousins, Enyak and Guinevere, were all that was left to Merlin from his once numerous linage.

-Her face is blurry in my memory-she whispered shyly.

-That is of no surprise, child. You were a toddler when she died-.

-But...-she went on-My father always mentioned how much I resembled her too-.

Devnet wasn't sure if she imagined it or if Merlin had actually smiled.

-Yes, her beauty has flowered upon you as well-the magician sighted- Your father was a good man. He never permitted that her memory was forgotten. A loyal husband…But Im afraid that, despite his good intentions, no sarmatian can teach a child how to be a woad-.

Merlin turned to her, and offered her his arm in a way so unlike of him, Devnet jumped to a side, thinking he might be drawing a weapon. At the same time she realised how stupid it was to think that of him. Her reaction amused him, apparently.

What is it in my actions that men always seem to find so funny.

-Can't a loving grandfather walk arm in arm with his grandchild?-asked Merlin in their language, his voice unusually tender. Devnet accepted his offer thoughtfully.

-Of course he can, _daideó-_her Gaelic was a bit rusty and with quite a marked accent of Briton and even the faint shadows of sarmatian, but it was perfectly understandable. It suited Merlin just fine.

The elder emited a grave sigh. The sat on a fallen tree, contemplating the full moon between the outline of the trees.

-It is not a common thing when a full moon falls on Samhain-murmured Merlin, and he sounded surprisingly tired, though maybe it was just concern in his voice-I am quite afraid I am unable to make out its augury. My heart had grown unsettled, though-.

Devnet laced her pale fingers together, eyes lost to the moon.

-Well-she answered shyly-It is a common feeling on Samhain. Change can make anyone restless-.

It certainly did that to her. As if he'd read her mind, Merlin grabbed her wrist, as slim as a bird's neck, making her attention draw back to him.

-Do not feel guilty for wishing your men never received their freedom. Any man or woman is scared of losing their family-.

Devnet could feel her eyes moister with unexpected tears that rolled down her face like _"silver dew and liquid moonlight"._ Lancelot always said that, because the damn fool knew it made her laugh. Lancelot, she recalled, had always had an aversion towards tears. He'd wipe them away from her face the moment they started rolling. He said they covered her adorable little freckles.

_Gods _she realised with authentic panic. _How will I live without him?_

How could she live without _any _of them?

-It is not only that-she whispered breathlessly, trying to hold back the tears. She would not cry in front of this man-It is guilt for my selfishness, and fear of being left alone again, and cowardice because I am not strong enough, faithful enough to dare follow them east-she sighted-I can't even bring myself to visit Arthur in Rome…what kind of scared little mouse have I become?-.

-Is it truly cowardice to wish to remain in your own country, child? I certainly think not-.

She tightened her jaw.

-What holds me here, Merlin?-she demanded fiercely-A keen I do not belong to? Cousins I have not seen since childhood? A grandfather I see twice a year? Or maybe the cold, sad graves of my parents? Tell me. What kind of bond is that?-.

He stared at her, his hazel eyes forever wise.

-None you should care for-he replied calmly and pressed a finger over her collarbone-There is a reason that holds you back, otherwise you would not be as torn. I believe it is the hope that someday you will understand this land as your home, and love it, like your mother did. And deep inside, you know this land is heaven-.

-_Why_ am I here, _daideó_?-she whispered again, feeling lost and vulnerable, and as lonely as if the knights had already left-What bothers your heart so much you took the trouble to send for me?-.

Merlin seemed genuinely surprised by her question, and was that regret in his eyes? He rested his hand, tanned and scared, knobby from countless battle fractures, yet without a single stain of age. The act was almoust fatherly, and Devnet was starting to wonder if this Samhain would actually turn her life upside down instead of bringing slight changes.

-I…admit I am to blame as well for the distance between you and us. I am, after all, your grandfather, and it is not up to you entirely to build our relationship-he sighted again-Despite my absence, I _do _care about your well-being, child. I knew this Samhain would be particularly heavy on you, with all the turns that are coming your way. However, I wanted to warn you as well-.

-Warn me?-she frowned-Warn me about what?-.

The wildling leader lifted his face to the sky, allowing the skims of moonlight to wash over his face.

-There is change in the air, and it has nothing to do with the Sarmatians´ discharge, Rome's withdraw or the choices you may make in the future. Something comes our way, something that will change Britain's history. Perhaps…it is just and old man's hunch, but there is tension in the air. And I …I wanted to warn you, this might affect your own world as-well-.

-My world?-.

-Forces this big affects us all. I cannot tell if it will be for better or worst-.

Merlin's granddaughter pressed her lips together.

-I will fight whatever comes against me. We will all do-.

Merlin's face was sombre.

-Aye. That is what I fear-he stood-Take care of yourself. Child. And keep your loved ones close-he paused and then added-I shall be watching over you too, in my own way. You know, however, that I cannot cease to fight anyone who stands against my people's freedom, even if there is no real affront between me and Artorius's men-.

Devnet nodded. She'd always known that Merlin would never take pity on her men, just as she would not hesitate to murder any woad that came close to harm them.

-And neither shall I cease to protect them-.

She held her head high and glanced to her grandfather unafraid, holding his gaze despite its overwhelming intensity. Something flashed across those hazel, ancient wise eyes; something similar to pride, and he almoust imperceptibly nodded approvingly. After a moment of hesitation, Devnet stood on her tiptoes and kissed the man's cheekbone, were the skin was still uncovered by his wild beard.

-The Morrigan and the Dagda bless you, _Athair Críonna_-.

-We'd better hope they bless us all, by all Gods, we will need it-he replied, placing his hands on her shoulder and kissing her forehead-Farewell, granddaughter-.

She offered a faint smile before turning to make her way back to Badon's. But Merlin called after her.

-Child-his voice was almoust warm, and solemn-Years of battle have taught me, that no matter the sharpness of the swords, the aim of the arrows or the length of the spears; the most powerful weapon to win a war, is something much more stronger, and much more complicated-his gaze pulled away all inside her, uncovering her very soul, and she felt naked to him, not in a carnal way, but in spirit. And she felt closer to a power so much great beyond her comprehension.

-Love-stated the man, and the air around him seemed to tremble at his words-A fortunate union, an unexpected bond that goes beyond any sort of cultural divisions, might turn reluctant enemies into invaluable allies-.

Devnet eyed her grandfather. She felt a tingling in her chest, as if her heart understood what he meant, though the rest of her did not.

-Between the Woads and the romans, Merlin?-she hesitated to say.

-Between the Woads, and _anyone_ who is willing to stand against Rome-.

Something hidden stirred inside her should.

-_Daideó_?-her question implied all the others in her heart. He stared at her intensely.

-Child, despite your upbringing…there is more of a Woad in you than what you suspect to know-.

And then he was gone, in that particular way of the Woads that made it appear as if they were made out of smoke and wind. Devnet found herself alone in the woods, left with an unsettling feeling inside her. Her head was a swirl of unidentified ideas she could not make out from one another. Merlin's words echoed in her head, making her uneasy.

Trying to serenate herself somehow, she tried to organize her thoughts and the events rushing her way, while she returned to the fortress through the same route she'd left. The Knights' discharge. Her decision to go with them or to stay. Merlin's warning. And of course, her relationship with Lancelot. Because that _"Would you come with me"_ changed all the ruled of their game.

_Talk about Samhain, huh._

She suddenly did not feel in the mood for partying. She decided she'd just climb inside Lancelot's bed and wait for him to take their business from where they'd left it at the Garden.

She rubbed her face as she entered the knights' headquarter, smiling at Jols who was taking an opportunity to clean around. The halls were empty, for it was fairly early for the men to abandon the party. Some wouldn't probably even return tonight. She'd caught a glance of Galahad entering the stables with two girls under his arm, the three equally drunk. She laughed to herself.

Pulling the flowers out of her hair, she opened Lancelot's door and stepped inside.

The small white flowers fell to the floor, losing all their petals like a broken toy.

She heard a small shriek and the bed sheets pulled off to reveal Lancelot and some red-haired wench who tried hide her nakedness with indignation painted on her round little face.

For a moment Devnet simply stared at the couple, her lips slightly parted in surprised, not knowing what to say. And then something snapped inside her. Something furious and hurt. Betrayal.

She crossed the room like and exhalation to the girl's side of the bed.

-Fun's over, _Ginge_r, _get out_-she snapped, cold as ice and hard as stone.

The wench stared at her with contempt and sneered.

-Excuse me? I believe it is _you_ who should leaving right now, _sweetie_-.

Devnet rolled her eyes and grabbed her by the hair. She screamed in pain.

-Listen, you little _bitch_. You'd better walk out that door before I drag you off myself and throw you naked in the mud-.

-What on earth is wrong with you?-the girl tried to dig her nails in Devnet's hands, but she twisted and pulled at her hair harder, as if wanting to tear it off her scalp-Lancelot!-sobbed the girl.

The man sighted and simply rubbed his face, tracing circles over his temples.

-You'd better leave, Erin-.

_Ginge_r stared at him in disbelieve before jumping out of the bed, freeing her hair from Devnet's grasp, pulling her dress sloppy over her figure and slamming the door behind her with not a single glance over her shoulder.

A deadly silence fell over the room.

-Devnet-began Lancelot, but she cut him off.

-_Do not talk to me_-.

-_Please_, look at me-.

-I can't. You disgust me. Now let me make this quite clear. I never demanded fidelity from your part, but when you ask a woman to leave her whole world behind and run off with you, you do _not_ fuck another wench afterwards-she spoke quietly, but with no softness in her voice. Her tone was flat, her eyes clouded with fury. She would not lose her mind in front of this…this _man-whore_.

-I am sorry-.

-I don't want your apologies, Lancelot du Lac. In fact I don't want anything from you. Not anymore. How _dare you_ take another woman when not even an hour before you were about to have sex with me. I am not one of your prostitutes. I was your friend, not someone you just replace when she's not available-.

-I didn't know if you were coming back…-.

-I don't give a damn about what you thought!-for a moment she lost her temper, but forced herself to breathe and keep her icy tone-From now on, you don't talk to, you don't look at me, you don't even breath my way unless we're forced to. I am _done_ with you-.

A turning of heels. A rustle of skirts, a series of hard, angry steps and a door slamming so hard it made the knight's teeth clatter; and she'd walked out on him.

Devnet locked herself in her room, because she didn't want to accidentally unleash her fury over someone else who had nothing to do with it. She lit the chimney and dragged her chair, sitting and staring at the flames with her face carved out of stone. In complete silence, unmoving. Just staring without seeing, until the heat became unbearable to her eyes. She would rub them and the reassume her watch.

It wasn't until the sky was already greying the East that she started crying.

**Glossary:**

**Daideó:** Grandfather

**Athair Críonna:** Father of the Heart

**Don't forget to leave your comments !:) Thanks**


	7. IV) Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Hey everyone! Well, here I am with a new chapter, thankfully, it is shorter than the last ! (Don't worry there's still a lot to see) Only a few more chapters for the story to reach the beginning of the movie now. As always, I look forward to read your reviews on the story, wether to compliment or to point out something I could improve. They make me improve and encourage me as well. Hope you Enjoy!**

**I also want to thank -recey2010 for her comments on the story! Your enthusiasm for the story brightens my day!**

The others knew something was off, and it had nothing to do with Arthur joining them at the tavern the next night. Oh no, what had gone terribly wrong, in the eyes of the men, was the fact that Devnet pulled an actual _wooden _chair between Galahad and Gawain instead of occupying her usual spot on Lancelot's lap.

By the time they realised she acted as if the handsome curly-haired man didn't exist at all, they started to get seriously concerned. Did the seelie folk trade human adults for adult faeries as well? Because this was no Devnet they knew.

Just as she'd expected, soon enough the men were going after information, trying to get her to tell what had happened. When Galahad and Gawain approached her, she was shooting arrows in the practice yard, using apples as target, because they were much more challenging than the hay-men. Galahad grabbed his own bow from its place on the wall, took an arrow from the quiver beside Devnet and aimed for his own target. Gawain had pulled a stool to her other side, with his axe resting on one leg and a sharpening stone in his hand.

Devnet rolled her eyes and ignored them, pulling the bow string to her chin. If they were expecting her to spill out her guts openly at them, they were in for a big disappointment. She was determinate to ignore the matter until it simply moved on.

Finally, the men's patience runned out and they started throwing fake sights in her direction, hoping she'd take the hint. Brigid's sake, if they wanted answers so badly they could just ask instead of waiting for her to start the conversation.

_Men_. When it came to people's feeling they were completely helpless. The situation was getting into her last nerve and she finally give in.

-What do you want?-she snapped, lowering her bow.

If those two had been puppies, they would have probably jumped around her in joy. Instead they just leaned forward with greedy eyes desperate for gossip. Worse than old midwifes on a market day.

-We could not help but notice that things between you and Sir Jumpy Pants seem to have gone a little…icy-commented Gawain with a fake careless tone. Anyone who saw him would have thought he was just talking about the centurions' latest foolishness.

-Aye-chorused Galahad, shooting an apple down, walking over to retrieve it-So we were just…wondering if maybe you two have…quarrelled?-he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively in her direction, munching at his apple.

Devnet rolled her eyes again and shot another arrow before answering.

-What if we have? Lancelot and I fight _all_ the time. In fact, you are always complaining about it-she struggled to sound indifferent.

_Not like this_ chipped an annoying, love-struck voice inside her head. _Never like this_. Frustration washed over her. It was impossible to silence that part of her soul that was bitter and sorrowful. She tried so hard to act like the whole situation didn't affect her, but she had to admit it was proving to be harder than expected. Her efforts to avoid the knight as much as possible resulted in to her bumping against him nearly every day. Every time she accidentally crossed those sombre black eyes cold as winter, it knocked the air out of her, as she realised over and over again: _He doesn't miss me at all._

At least he stuck to the cold-shoulder routine and didn't even bother to breath in her direction. Ironically, she was thankful that he'd decided to respect the decision that most pained her heart at night. She forced those ideas out of her mind.

-Yes, but this is different-protested Galahad. He closed a hand around her wrist a little bit stronger than she would've liked-It's been going on for nearly a week now-.

-So?-.

-_So!?_-Gawain shot her an incredulous look-Seriously!? You two can't keep your hands off each other for more than a day-.

Devnet sneered.

-_Please!_ Just because I do not sit on his legs every night it doesn't mean we've argued-she waved her hand dismissively, pretend to find the whole situation terrible funny-He has other women-.

The last statement was meant to be humorous, but it just made her feel more miserable inside.

-C'mon, petite-a groan escaped from both men, and Galahad dropped his hand on his knee in frustration-You know what we mean. You act like you can't stand his mere existence every time he walks by you-.

_That's because I can't._

-_Fine_. Maybe we had a little…disagreement-.

-_Little disagreement!?_-Gawain's sarcastic tone was enough to express the idea without words: _"You call that a disagreement?"_

-Believe me when I say it really was nothing-.

-_Nothing!?_-.

-_Yes_, Gawain. Will you keep repeating every last word I say?-.

Gawain lifted his palms _. Galahad frowned at her, putting a hand on her small shoulder disapprovingly.

-Hey-his tone was reproachful-Whatever is biting at your pretty little ass is not our fault. Don't get out on us-.

-What's biting at my "pretty little ass" at the moment-she pushed her friends hand off impatiently-Is you two interrogating me like a couple of kitchen maids in search of the latest rumours-.

She held her head proudly and fixed her attention back on her bow and her arrows. She pulled another one to her cheek, the white feathers caressing her skin like a lover's kiss. She pressed her lips together and released the string before the sensation went any further.

She missed the target by a great distance.

Her best friends snorted, as if that confirmed she was lying. She ignored them with dignity.

-Do you _mind_!? I am trying to practise-she snapped resentfully. She must have looked rather none-threating because they simply grunted in amusement, rolled their eyes and stormed off like spoiled little children, muttering something about her stubborn woad ass.

At least she could breathe back to normality and return to her dark, depressing thoughts now.

But of course, the knights were far from done. On the next couple of days she was approached by all of them in every sort of different manners. Bors sent Vanora behind her, wich was pretty dumb of his part, because Devnet obviously spilled her guts out with the red-haired woman, but Vanora was not going to reveal a single word to her husband. Dagonet kept following her like a shadow, hoping that the _"no direct confrontation"_ tactic would soften her determination to remain silent on the subject. Arthur summoned her under the pretext of being concerned if this behaviour would affect the entire group (wich was obviously out of question since she and Lancelot were cordial around each other when required). When another week had gone by and Tristan actually had the _nerve_ to appear out of nowhere when she'd been on her way to the _restrooms_, she finally broke down, screaming in exasperations that she wanted to be left alone and storming off to the stables as fast as she could to hide between her beloved horses' legs.

Ironically, the only horse there she could find comfort with was _Vahe_, Lancelot's elegant black stallion. Jols had probably taken_ Cian_ out to the fields. Sighting heavily, she opened the horse's box and dropped on her knees beside its legs. She runned her hand up and down _Vahe_'s powerful front leg, marvelling at the silky softness of the coat that covered his well-built muscles. She gently untangled the hay from the feathery black hair around his hoof, humming softly an old lullaby. She allowed her head to rest against the horse's velvet black coat and closed her eyes with a smile.

_Vahe_ abruptly lifted his head and gave a low, pleased neigh. Devnet's body tense as if sensing danger and her insides went cold. _Vahe_ was that welcoming to only one other person besides herself.

Lancelot coughed reluctantly to catch her attention.

The tiny brunette lifted her head towards him, with no emotion to be read in her features. Lancelot's own face was just as expressionless, staring right through her. A tense silence fell between them, heavy and cold. It made _Vahe_ uneasy, and he stamped his hoof nervously against the floor. It was only to soothe the stallion that Devnet decided to speak.

-Yes?-.

-Arthur wishes to see you-.

Gods, the ice in his voice stabbed at her heart, though it was only fair to admit she was being just as cold. How could two people act like strangers who couldn't stand each other when only a few weeks ago they'd known each other better than anyone?

_He decided it wasn't worth to refuse other women_ snapped the revengeful part of her soul, hurt.

She stared right through him.

-Fine.

The air turned cold when she passed by him, repelling his touch with distaste. The longing for him once again changed back into resent. She did not look back once when she left the stables, but deep inside she reluctantly had to admit she wanted to.

She wandered if Arthur had sent Lancelot to look for her intentionally, hoping they would solve their argument.

She met with the commander at the Round Table, along with Tristan and Dagonet. Arthur wanted them to go scouting east, for three days. It was just the routinely mission: ride off, see if there are any Woads around the area, and drive them off, come back home. Don't get killed.

She left the room feeling secretly relieved. If Dagonet and Tristan were her companions, there would be somewhat lesser chances they'd start pestering her with questions about her behaviour towards Lancelot again. At least she hoped so.

The left that very afternoon, under the watchful eyes of their commander, from the top of the Wall. As always, Arthur prayed God to keep them away from harm, to bring them back home safely. He felt considerably anxious for Devnet, though he knew it was pretty stupid; his Little One, she was fiery fighter. However, he'd never wanted this life for her whom he considered his sister; instead he wished she'd lived safely behind the walls of innocence and lovely things. It was what she deserved, at least. But God knew she was as stubborn as will itself, and nothing would keep her away from his men.

-Praying to your God again, to keep them safe? Why would he care for people who do not follow him?-.

Oh he would've recognised Lancelot even if he had not known the tone of his voice, just by his question. How very much he despised anything linked to Rome, including Arthur's religion. It was odd enough he'd accepted him as his best friend. The commander could not help but worry sometimes of the amount of darkness living in his best friend's heart.

-I have faith that my God does not discriminate pagans from his own people. He is merciful and would not condemn the innocent-.

Lancelot snorted, placed his hands on the border of the Wall, leaning over to watch at the horizon. Without averting his eyes from the three riding figures slowly drifting away, he replied.

-We have ended many lives Arthurs, I doubt that makes any of us innocent. And as Gawain is fond of saying, your God doesn't live here-he smirked darkly-Only the Woads-.

Arthur sighted.

-You have too much resent lodged inside you, Lancelot-.

The dark knight laughed with gloom. His hoarse laughter sounded more like a wolf's bark than a man's chuckles.

-You can blame your Rome for that. What would you expect from a man whose life has been stolen away from him?-.

Arthur chose to remain silently, for, with much guilt, he knew his friend was right. Instead, he moved their conversation to lighter ground.

-As you can see, I did what you asked of me-.

Lancelot turned to rest his back against the border now, and crossed his arms over his chest, finally changing his frown for a smile.

-I appreciate it, my friend-.

He could see reluctance crossing Arthur's green eyes and he knew immediately what was coming. He wished there was a way to stop it, though.

-Do you mind if I ask why you wanted me to change your turn with Dagonet's?-.

Lancelot tried to look amused, avoiding the answer if possible.

-Why? Are you scared I've chickened out of scouting? Don't worry, Artorius, I'll go next time-he attempted to joke. But Arthur shook his head gravely. Gods be damned, was he hard to manipulate.

-I would never doubt your courage, brother, and you know that-he paused for a moment and then added the feared question-Does it have to do with-.

-_Yes_-Lancelot cut him off sternly, with no intentions of saying more. Damn, why wouldn't he just let it drop?

-But _why_?-insisted the roman, concern hovering over his greyish green eyes- You two have always gotten along so well. Why suddenly do you keep your distance?-.

_Because she hates me, and with reason. _Devnet probably hadn't even realised the look of hurt and betrayal that glimmered like tears in her eyes that night, but he had seen it, and it still haunted him in the dead of the night. He sighted like a young old man, feeling the weight of his mistakes on his shoulders.

-Trust me, Arthur, it's better that way-.

The least he could do for her was what she'd asked. Not even breathe in her direction.

Holy Epona, there was nothing compared to the feeling of the wind against one's face and the power of a horse's legs beneath them when galloping wildly across the countryside. A top of _Cian_, it was like flying; it was the most empowering sensation she'd ever experienced. Her body danced in synchronisation with Cian's pace; the wind playing with her hair behind her. Distances disappeared like smoke beneath the horse's hoofs.

_This_ was the meaning of freedom.

Tristan and Dagonet were mere shadows sliding swiftly in the border of her vision. They'd been riding all afternoon, over hills, through woods, across streams of cold white water splashing in every direction.

They camped at nightfall, afoot of a tree bending over the water. A light drizzle had started raining over them, but thanks to the roof created by leaves they managed to light a small fire warm to their feet and hands. They covered the horses with blankets and then ate in silence, enjoying the crackling of the firewood and the merry tingling of the water. Dagonet and Tristan were quite companions, but had the blessed ability to make their silence comfortable. Devnet didn't even feel forced to make a conversation.

Once the dinner was over, they arranged the night watch turns. Devnet drew the last, almoust near to dawn. The idea of waking up so early did not appeal to her at all, but at least she'd get the chance to sleep the whole night undisturbed.

Leaning against the tree trunk, wrapped tightly with her cloak, Devnet started to doze off. She could just make the outline of Tristan's figure sitting on a rock by the river for the first watch before drifting into sleep.

Her dreams were more like memories; of past scouting she'd shared with Lancelot and Galahad; in wich Galahad was always on watch, while, without him knowing, she and Lancelot were doing everything _but_ scouting. In those memories there was no pain, because there were no promises; only two friends playing to be lovers. But when Dagonet shook her gently to wake her up for the last watch, all the bitterness and disappointment burst without invitation through her door.

Cursing under her breath, she crawled off to the same rock she'd seen Tristan occupy before she fell asleep. She rubbed the sleep sand away from her eyes, and splashed cold water on her face in an attempt to keep herself awake. Who could stand to be awake this early? The sky hadn't even started greying.

Her eyelids were heavy over her eyes. She had to pinch herself various time so as to not fall asleep. Hours rolled by longer than what they should have been. She jumped; her eyes had closed again. She shook her head and rested her cheek against her hand. The stream flowed so slowly it seemed still, her reflection as clear as a black mirror beneath the moonlight. Her eyelashes were so long. She heard a practical voice inside her head _you can't even see your eyelashes, it's still dark_. Who cares? They were long none the less, and so, so heavy, so very heavy…

The whispered call on her name woke her up this time. Flinching again, Devnet blinked and tilted her head disorientated, trying to locate the source of the sound.

A rustle of leaves caught her attention from across the stream. Someone, a male's voice, called her again, and she spotted a blue face between the trees in front of her.

A woad. Probably someone she knew, though who? She had no idea.

After looking over her shoulder to make sure her companions were asleep, she slowly stood up and jumped gracefully over the water. A man sneaked out to meet her. He was young, slightly older than her and vaguely familiar. She tilted her head to side, trying to remember his face.

Beneath his short beard, the woad smiled crookedly, crossing his tanned arms over his chest.

-Do you not remember me? I am Driscoll-.

To that Devnet shook her head incredously. What were the chances of running into an old lover she'd assumed was dead after two years of absence in the middle of a simple scouting mission?

-I didn't even know you were still alive-she confessed with surprise.

The man shrugged.

-I've been scouting the northern shore for the last couple of years. I returned a moon's turn ago. I've been following you and your friends for nearly a mile, waiting for a chance to talk to you-.

Devnet crooked an eyebrow.

-What is this? I don't hear anything from the Woads in more than a year and then all of a sudden every single one of you wants to speak with me-she eyed him suspiciously-I really hope you are not thinking of restarting our…thing-.

They had never been serious, though quite close. Being involved with a Pict was so much different from the men in the fortress that she had never even compared it. The Woads had such a natural conception of sex. It was not disproved from wild, raw, lust but it somehow seemed more pure, more…part of nature, of the forest around them. It had been an amazing experience, but she could not imagine herself back in Driscoll's arms. So much had changed since then; and she had not forgotten he was also unpredictable and fervent for war in a way it was almoust disturbing.

-Nah-Driscoll scratched at his beard insistently, piercing her with his cold, grey eyes-Besides, for what I have heard Brona relate over our fires, you now enjoy the company of the knights of the great wall. Said she caught you rolling with a man so dark eyed he resembled Dis Pater, she did-he spat to the water to emphasise his obvious disapproval.

_The god of death? He does not look that deadly…_

-Who I allow in my bed is my own business; Brona can tell whatever she wishes to-she replied shortly, annoyed by the woman's instigating tales-Now, what is it that you want, Driscoll?-.

The look he shot her was grave, hard as stone and bone-chilling. Whatever it was that he would communicate, it was ill news.

-As I said before, I have been guarding our shores up in the north-he paused, as if expecting her to ask him about how the experienced had treated him. She did not, so he went on talking-Merlin informed me he visited you on Samhain, to warn you about changes of the wind and omens in the air and all that metaphorical bullshit-.

Devnet could not hide her shock at hearing Driscoll refer to his leader like that. Normally, Woads did not take Merlin so lightly, nor their own connections with nature and the spirits. Had Driscoll become even more blood-driven in the last years he did not even respect Nature at all?

-Yes, what about it?-.

-That…presage now has a name. Saxons-his tone dropped when he spoke the name, and he spat in disgust again.

Whatever reaction he had been expecting of her, diversion was certainly not one of them.

-Saxons?-she laughed amusedly. Saxons had been harassing Britain's coasts long before any of us were born. They had never been a life-changing threat, though. Merlin's predications had brought to her mind something much more serious.

Driscoll scolded her hard with those deadly eyes of his.

-Don't be _stupid_, Devnet-he snapped, ignored her offended glare- It is more serious than what you imagine. We are talking about an entire army -when she gave him an incredulous look, he frowned even more-I have seen them gathering up in the North. Their ships plague our seas like flies over a dead body. 'Tis why I came back, to warn Merlin. Thousands of them. All soldiers. Even and idiot would realise they intent to invade the island-.

Each and every one of his words stabbed as and ice dagger against her brain. Her skeptical smirk had dropped into a frozen expression of fear and vulnerability, her confidence stumbling over the cruel news of the woad.

Every man, woman and child in the island knew that if someone came across the Saxons and lived to tell the tale, it was either because they'd been protected by some upper force; or that Saxon had been grievously wounded. They were ruthless with those who did not belong to their kin; people forged by the hammer of war. They knew no mercy, nor any sort of compunction. What they wanted they took, and they would not hesitate to destroy an entire nation if they had to.

It was one thing to face the occasional plundering of one or two ships in one of the villages. She'd fought them alongside the knights. She'd been stupid enough to go and confront a man three times her frame and get a blow in the head that knocked her off for a whole week, but she'd survived, and fought many others since then. But she had not forgotten the terrifying look that first foe had given her before crashing her skull with his maze; a look so full of pleasure she'd been sure she was going to die. It was only thanks to Tristan's intervention that the blow had not been fatal.

A Saxon invasion would be their doom. Wich was why she could not believe his words.

Cold sweat layered on her spine at the memory.

-You _lie_-she muttered, stepping back as if his proximity recoiled her-You just want to impress me with your scouting. I bet you saw nothing and spent the entire time watching over sheep-.

She believed her own tale. She wanted to believe it so badly she did not even give time for Driscoll to answer, protest or deny her theory. She stumbled back and tripped towards the camp as if all the demons expelled from the Avalon chased her to claim her soul.

-You will regret not believing my warning, Devnet-she could hear Driscoll call behind her and she pressed her run as if his words could harm her-All of you shall be _doomed_ if you do not prepare yourself for war!-.

**Don't forget to tell what you think ;) It really means a lot to me *makes puppy eyes***


	8. V) How Knights Solve It (Part One)

**"Hey everyone! First of all, thank you to those who've voted and followed the story so far. Im back again with a longer chapter, but this one will only be split in two parts, I think. I intend to finally start with the movie plot next chapter, thought I'll have to see how it turns out. For now, enjoy this chapter. I remind you that reviews are really appreciated, just to know wether if something in the story needs fixing, maybe the way a character is coming out, or a detail in the story-telling or anything that you can come up with. And also what you do like about it. Enjoy !**

Since Devnet had promptly decided not to believe a single word that had come out of Driscoll's mouth, she didn't even mention the unexpected encounter when she returned to her companions, thought she was very sure Tristan knew it anyway. However, he did not bring it up.

The rest of the mission remained uneventful, and three days later they'd returned to Badon Hill with nothing to report to their commander, but a broken bridge in a village three miles south.

Life slowly went back to normal, like a grown river returns to its original channel. Devnet soon forgot Driscoll's news of a Saxon invasion, and she'd even stopped caring about her grandfather's words on Samhain. Thought her relationship with Lancelot was still a thorn in her side, she found her life going back as it'd always been.

There was plenty to be done with the cold season quickly aproaching. Warmer clothes to be made and emended. Grain to be collected. Stables to repair so they would stand against the snow, and animals to be fattened. Everywhere in the village people were running up and down as if winter was already upon them.

For the knights it wasn't any different. They spent their days helping around to lift heavy sacks, mending the stables or even watching over Vanora's children, always under the commanding watch of the red-head, Arthur or some bossy roman soldier who ended up cursed a thousand times a day and most certainly suffered some "misadventure" the day after.

Devnet found herself in the apple trees fields alongside many other women and men, collecting the fruit for the winter. She'd climbed a particularly high tree, and was perched on a branch like a skinny little bird, plugging apples and tossing them to the box below.

She was singing softly, without words and munching a rosy apple while she picked others with her free hand, when she felt a sharp pain at her lower back that made her drop the apple in surprise and look over her shoulder.

-I told you I could reach her-she spotted Galahad grinning with fake modesty and waving mockingly at Devnet from the foot of a tree a few meters to her left. Beside him was Gawain, rolling his blue eyes with and amused expression at her.

-All right, very well-she heard him say-I'll buy you the damn drink. But now, duck-.

-What?-Galahad stared at him blankly.

-_Duck_-there was a warning tone in Gawain's voice.

-Why would I do such th-ARG!-.

The man fell back on his ass, his hands clutching at his forehead were an apple had hit him right on the temple. He muttered a hundred curses in Devnet's direction that made a lot of the girls around him blush and the men frown at him sternly. Gawain was laughing so hard he had to put a hand on the tree trunk to brace himself, slapping at his knee like a madman.

-Fuck you, asshole-snapped his friend from his comely position on the floor.

-I _did_ told you to duck, didn't I?-.

-Shut up and help me up, imbecile-.

Clutching Gawain's hand, he pulled himself to his feet, stumbling slightly and holding his forehead. He lifted his face at Devnet, who'd gone back to her labour as if nothing had happened in first place.

-I'm gonna destroy that little bitch-.

-Oh I very much wouldn't. But that's fine. You never listen to me anyway-.

Galahad bended to pick up the apple that Devnet had tossed and leaned back, his arm outstretched behind his shoulder.

-Because you talk too much-he smirked, before throwing the apple with incredible precision.

This time, it hit her square on the head, and Devnet leaned forward with the impact and suddenly slipped. She gave an ear-piercing shriek the second she lost her support and her entrails turned inside out at the fast aproaching floor. Her only thought flashing across her mind all in one instance was that' she was going to snap her neck.

And then she landed painfully in the arms of someone who'd caught her just before she crashed. Devnet's sight blurred because of the shock and the fear and the hard blow to the head and the air blown out of her lungs when her saviour crashed her ribs against his chest to prevent her from falling.

-I'm all right. I'm all right-she panted, though to the one who'd saved her or to herself, she wasn't quite sure. Her body made a quick study of its condition and after reassuring there was no damage save some minor bruising, she lifted her head.

And felt like falling all over again.

Lancelot seemed just as surprised at her, blinking as if awakening from a dream. He was clenching his narrow jaw and stabbing her with those piercing eyes of his, full of turmoil, but not particularly cold. He lowered her gently to the floor, his grip still firm on her waist so she would not lose her footing. The spot where his hand rested tingled.

He seemed to be about to say something, but then changed his mind and merely stared. Devnet snapped back to consciousness and opened her mouth to thank him, without realising she'd pushed him away violently; when Galahad and Gawain came running towards her, asking her if she was hurt.

-I am so, so sorry, _petite_. I really didn't mean to aim at your head. I am a bloody idiot. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Please tell me you're not hurt-.

Galahad grabbed her face, checking for any serious damage, while Gawain verified she had no broken bones. She shook them of, overwhelmed.

-I'm _fine_-she replied shortly. Knowing she'd spoken too hard on them, her expression softened-I'm sorry. It's okay. Really. Lancelot ca-she stopped, blinking at the empty spot were the dark knight had been standing a moment ago. She turned just in time to see him storming off between the trees, without looking back, apparently angry.

Her friends followed her gaze.

-Oh-said Gawain, quietly-And I thought he'd already forgotten you even existed-.

Devnet bit her lower lip, shaking her head slightly, confused.

-So did I-.

She turned to pick the box of apples. Before she could take it, Galahad leaned over and lifted it over his shoulder, offering to carry it with and apologetic smile.

-C'mon, let's be off once and for all. Its almoust nightfall, and I'm getting sick of these damn apples anyway-.

Devnet and Gawain followed him back to the fortress under the silvery light of the lowering sun. Wind was blowing strand of her hair over Devnet's face. It was going to be a chilly night. The kind no one wanted to spend alone, lying on a cold bed.

When she arrived at the tavern for her shift, however, she came across quite an opposite scenary. Sure enough, the early autumn night was cold and a faint mist floated close the ground, but in the yard everything was light and laughter. Everyone was trying to fight the chillness in the air, and they found refuge in the warmth of company and celebration. The musician were presenting a merry tone, soft and fair, to wich a few maids were dancing sweetly. Torches burned warmly on every corner, and for once, all men had put aside their differences and joins forces against the cold.

Suddenly, Devnet did not fancy being dragged by the bitter coldness that had been hunting her for days. She'd had enough of it for a lifetime. It was not enough to forget the Saxons, Lancelot, or the decisions she would or would not take in the future. She let them _go_. Slip away like wind. There was no space for them in that welcoming orange circle that smelled of roast meat, smoke and ale.

She stepped into the light.

Grabbing a tray from the counter with a jar of ale, she went around the tables offering drinks.

-There you are, lass!-called Bors. She smiled and approached the knights.

-You men cannot last an hour without missing my wonderful person-she laughed, filling their cups. She looked around, frowning slightly with concern.

-Why, how come the glorious First Knight isn't corrupting you with his company? The night is too young yet to take a woman to bed, even for him-.

-Thought you didn't give a damn about him anymore-Gawain lifted his mug in her direction before emptying it in one swallow. The others imitated his inquiring gaze.

-Dearest, we might be angry with each other, but it doesn't mean I don't take intrest in him. If anything, just to gossip around a little-she smirked, picking up their empty plates of food.

Galahad sneered and lifted his eyebrows amusingly, shaking his head.

-Well-he said-If it's gossip you're after, you sure will find something-he looked at the empty bottom of his cup and then extended it to Devnet-Be a sweetheart, please?-.

The girl tilted her head slightly, frowning her lips with a snort.

-Sorry?-. She didn't quite follow where he was going with that.

The men lowered their cups, surprised she hadn't heard the latest rumours circulating around the fortress. Bors licked a few remaining drops of wine from his lips and said:

-It cannot be that you haven't heard a bloody word about it, girl. The whole damn town probably knows by now. It's all the women talk about-.

-Knows about what?-she looked at each of them for and explanation. A pang of alarm dropped in her chest-Is Lancelot well?-.

Galahad snorted.

-Well, _that's_ what it's all about. Whatever is going on with him, it impends him from fulfilling the…ladies' expectations-.

She must have misunderstood him. She leaned into him with an expression of disbelieve in her face. She couldn't have guessed what she had been expecting to hear, but it certainly had not been that. Why, in the name of all the gods, would Lancelot do such a thing?

She had to gain control of her face in a second before she showed the real emotions of excitement and Gods be damned a thousand times, _hope_; stirring in her heart

-You jest, surely! That is _unheard_ of. Do you really mean he…-she let the question trail off on purpose.

Gawain plunged his knife on a piece of bread from his plate and held it to his mouth, nodding.

-He hasn't visited any lady's bed nor taken them to his own for Gods know how long-. He nibbled at his food.

She blinked, unable to believe her ears. She turned to the others, seeking confirmation.

-Aye-Bors nodded slowly, as if he did not quite believe his own words-We realised around a week ago. Heard the serving girls complain and lament over the loss of his company and his…talented attributes blessed by the Gods-he cleared his throat-I am just quoting the wenches words, by the way-he clarified awkwardly.

-Really?-teased Gawain. Bors ignored him.

-Anyway-he added to Devnet-We put two and two together and realised it made sense with his recent behaviour. He'd been like a damn hermit lately, ya know?-.

Devy blinked.

-Are you certain?-.

Gawain puffed his blond bearded cheeks.

-Oh, very certain-he replied, annoyed- My room is right next to his, and it's the first time I've been sleeping this soundly for as long as I can remember. His activities normally keep me awake well past midnight. The fucker has no respect for his neighbours, I assure you-.

-I wonder what's wrong with him-Devnet muttered more to herself than to her friends, leaning over to pour ale in Gawain's mug.

-HEY! HEY! THAT'S ENOUGH! GODS _DAMN IT_, DEV!-.

Gawain sprang from his sit to avoid any more ale spilling over his clothes. Devnet snapped back. The liquid formed a puddle around the over-filled cup and dripped over the border of the table. Gawain's lap was completely wet. Galahad was rolling in laughter in his seat.

-Aren't you a bit old for wetting yourself?-he teased, slamming his fist repeatedly against the table.

Gawain shot him a killer glare.

-Shut up, you arse. Gods be damned, I'm soaked to my breeches. What on earth happened to you, Devnet?-.

She blinked, struggling to tear her brown eyes molten with blue from the dark brown puddle on the table.

-Sorry-she muttered absentmindedly-I have to…I will go…I will get something to clean…-she drifted off, walking as if her mind was elsewhere. Gawain turned to his brother at arms.

-What do you reckon has gotten into her?-.

Galahad pouted, shaking his head to make it clear he did not have a clue. Bors shrugged as well-

-You're all damn blinder than moles-.

The men jumped at the sound of Tristan's cup of ale placed sharply on the table. He dropped to a chair beside Galahad.

-Fuck! Tristan!-grumbled the cub-You've got to stop doing that-.

Gawain eyed the scout curiously.

-Whatever do you mean?-.

Tristan nailed his piercing hazel eyes, shadowed by his lanky strands of hair, on them, while scraping at the dirt lodged beneath his nails.

-Before this-he slurred in his usual low town, dragging the words in his strange accent wich made it even harder to hear what he said-I wouldn't have blamed any of you for not realising it. I didn't figured it out either until a few days ago. But after talking with Devnet, one would have thought you'd be able to put two and two together-.

Bors frowned and snapped him to stop going around things and be clear about it.

-You count the days-replied Tristan, taking a swallow of his ale-The answer's is right there in what you told Devnet. Tell me, how long has it been since Lancelot decided to practise celibacy?-.

-We found out about a week ago-admitted Gawain, and paused before adding-But we presume it must have been going on for at least three now-.

-Exactly. Now make the counts. When was the last time Devnet last spoke with our infamous womanizer?-.

The three men were quite for a moment. Gawain made the sums in his head. The other two just pretended to think, while they actually waited for him to finish and give the answer for them. Suddenly realisation crossed his blue eyes and his lips parted slightly, looking at Tristan with disbelieve.

-You wouldn't think that…-he trailed off, unable to say the words.

Tristan nodded, pulling an apple from the pocket of his tunic.

-I don't _think_. Im certain-.

-What?-Bors stared at one and then another-What is it?-.

-Don't keep us in the dark-protested Galahad.

Gawain ignored him still staring at Tristan.

-Impossible. They wouldn't act the way they normally do in front of us if they were having an affair-.

-The best place to hide something is at plain sight-.

Gawain pushed his chair away from the table, eyes lost in nothingness.

-Then they've been fooling as all for gods know how long…-.

-_Who?_-Galahad was impatient-Who's been fooling us?-.

-And having an affair?-added Bors.

-Lancelot and Devnet-.

-_Petite!?_-.

-With that man-whore!?-.

-Aye-.

Galahad held his head in his hands, trying to process the facts.

-Wait, wait, wait-he snapped, pulling at the strands of his dark hair-Are you saying that Lancelot's decided to practices celibacy because of his fight with _Devy_!?-.

Tristan shrugged.

-Most probably-.

The men were quiet while they struggled to deal with the situation. After what seemed a terribly long time, Bors stood up abruptly.

-I need another drink-.

-So do I-.

-_Excellent_ idea-.

She couldn't possibly have been _that_ blind. Granted, her room was at the far end of the hall at the knights' headquarters, but how could she have eluded such fact? Anyone would notice if Lancelot suddenly stopped bringing girls into his chamber.

At least that's what she purred all over Vanora, clutching a mug of ale she'd barely touched.

-I mean, I've seen him myself do so, thousands of times! How could've miss something so obvious!? Gods!-as if to scold herself for her ignorance, she slapped her forehead against the table.

-If you're trying to avoid him, isn't it logical that you lose track of whatever is going on in his life?-the red-head could not see why, Gods, _why_ her friend was being so dramatic over it. She wasn't even drunk enough to put such an act of tragedy.

-Do you think it's because of me?-Devy lifted her head from the table, completely ignoring what she'd just said-Could he be doing this for me?-.

Vanora gave the idea a thought and then opened her mouth to answer.

-No, don't answer that-she cut her off violently, getting on her feet-You know what? _Screw it_. I will not break my head over this puzzle. I-she picked her mug-Shall enjoy the evening. I'll have a very good time and a very bad behaviour-with a dirty smirk he emptied the cup in three swallows and trotted off to a table occupied by roman centurions.

Vanora sighted. That girl was unpredictable.


	9. V) How Knights Solve It (Part Two)

She knew she would not be able to look any of those men next morning, but while she danced for them, turning and swirling her skirts around her on top of their table, she didn't give a damn.

The men clapped around her, cheering and whistling like boys. Her hair spun around embracing her waist gracefully and caressing her neck. She stamped her foot against the table, clapping her hands as she looked over her shoulder seductively at her audience.

When she the world started spinning around her and she lost her sense of orientation, she asked Quintus to help her off the table. She pecked the man's lips playfully and then plopped into a chair another centurion had pulled for her. The soldiers were all over her in an instant, washing her with compliments and flirting attempts. Knowing she had them wrapped around her pinkie, she smiled sweetly, bagging her eyelashes with desire.

-Gentlemen-she announced-So much dancing has made me thirsty. Who could be so kind as to bring me a cup of ale?-.

The romans stumbled over each other to the counter to get her what she asked. Oh, she'd been dying to get rid of them. Not all romans were so dull and overwhelming, but Quintus and company were more than what she could endure.

By now, she was aware that she was grossly drunk. She saw the world as if from a dream, swaying slightly before her eyes. She also felt loose like a bird freed from its cage, but knew it was just the alcohol. She was no bird and feelings were no cage.

A stupid smile played on her lips. She started shooting lustful looks at a serving boy across the tavern, casually twisting her hair around her finger, when someone grabbed her firmly by the wrist and dragged her away from the tavern.

-What…why you little…let me _go_!-.

She freed herself violently from Lancelot's grip. Her wrist burned as she twisted it in her hand to get her blood circulating again. They were in the middle of a narrow street dimly illuminated. Despite her anger, Devnet's heart hammered inside her chest from something that had nothing to do with her annoyance.

-What the hell is wrong with you!?-she snapped. It was the first sentence she'd said to him in weeks.

Lancelot's eyes glimmered dangerously under the poor light of the alley.

-What the fuck do you think you're doing!?-he spat another question back at her.

Indignation washed over her, hot and infuriating. Who did he think he was to talk to her like that?

-What, you don't even breathe in my direction for Gods now how long and now you've got the divine right to enquire about the activities in my life? It's none of your damn business-.

-Oh, no, no, no, sweetheart. Don't you dare blame this on me-he pointed a finger at her. His curls cast shadows over his pale face, making him seem almoust ghostly. Dis Pater, she recalled for a moment-I was just doing what you so clearly asked of me. Not even breathe in your direction. You started this-.

-_You_ were the one with a _whore in his bed_, right after you me asked to go away with you-she replied with venom.

Lancelot growled at her, knowing he had no reply to the truth. Instead he pierced through her with his gaze, burning passionately over her soul. It clouded her thinking.

When he stepped closer, Devnet could smell the sour scent in his breath. She backed against the wall.

-You're drunk-.

-So are you, and more than me-.

His ragged breathe so hot over her neck made her knees quiver like butter. She bit her lip when one of his calloused hands cupped a side of her face, sliding a finger over her cheek. Her skin remembered his touch, and she felt needles all over her nerves. Her nails dug inside the wood at her back. Her body ached to give in to him so badly. Lancelot's thumb lingered over the faint mantle of freckles on her face.

-I miss my fairy footprints-he whispered. Oh, how much she loved it when he called her freckles that. The knight leaned closer, his lips seeking her ear and whispered with a dark voice tainted with pain and regret-Forgive me-. He kissed her cheek then, gentle as the touch of an angel. Devnet's heart threatened to leap out of her chest.

So vulnerable, so hurt, so preciously lodged inside his heart. He'd tried, Gods forgive him. He had. But another day away from her beauty and he would certainly go mad. And when he saw her dancing for those drooling dogs, he could not bear it any longer. And now she was so close, all he could smell was the flowery scent of her hair. His _petite_, with her tiny curves and her minimum height and her bird-like bones.

She was worth all the women he'd ever laid with. Deep inside, he'd always known that.

-Gods curse me for this-.

Lancelot should not have kissed her, but he did. She did not want to response to him, but she was. She did not want to surrender, but she gave in. And Brigid's sake, was it sweet. She was helpless, because he'd stolen her first kiss on a summer night so many years ago, and he'd locked her in the spell of his lips and there was no way out.

She clung to him, cursing herself when she felt the warm trail of tears falling down her face. He kissed them away, holding her against him with no intention of letting go. By all the horse lords was she intoxicating to him.

-I can't stand this anymore, Dev-he groaned, searching her lips like a beggar searches for bread-It's foolish-.

She forced herself to break apart.

-Foolish?-she whispered, not angry, but sad-You hurt me, Lancelot. More than what I care to admit. How could-.

-Forgive me-Lancelot cut her off with a kiss-Forgive me and leave with me, to home-.

He'd never been surer of the words he was saying. All this years, he should've known. Gods damn him, but this girl had been his since the day he picked her up to carry her on his horse.

-Why?-she kept interrupting their lip-locking, much to his annoyance-Why do you want me to leave with you?-.

-Damn it, Dev, you know why-.

-Say it-.

Lancelot stopped and stared vacantly at her.

-What?-.

-Say it-she looked at him straight in the eye-I am tired of playing this little game of running away from our feelings. Im done fooling around with men-she was surprise at her own words, but the moment she voiced them she knew they were true-If you really want this, say it. Say it and I'll leave anywhere with you-.

They held a silent battle of eyes, black against blue molten with brown. Devnet's heart quivered inside its cage, fearing and yet yearning the answer. Lancelot found his inside frozen inside him.

-Devy, please. You know I can't-.

Her soul dropped.

-Why not?-she struggled not to look crushed.

-I just can't, I don't know way. I cannot promise you anything, save my fidelity to you and the truth of my feelings-.

The woman stared at him for what seemed an eternity. Her eyes searched for something unknown to him inside his mind. She pressed her plump lips together, studying the thoughts around her head. She almoust pitied the faint resigned tone in his voice.

-What are you so afraid of-she whispered beneath the ghostly moonlight. All Lancelot could think about was just how much she remained him of one of her own goddess. It wasn't a question, more like a wonder said out loud. Lancelot could not answer. A combination of pride, uncertainty, maybe even fear, thought he would never admit _that._

-What are we then?-she was standing on her tiptoes, and she still had to tilt her head up.

Lancelot shook his head, rolling his eyes sideways at his own frustration.

- I cannot name it-he admitted, ashamed. He took her pale little face in his hands however, and spoke closely, excluding the rest of the world from his words-We're Devnet and Lancelot, just you and me-he sighted heavily-It is all you can get from a man whose life does not even belong to himself-.

Devnet could understand the bitter truth of his words. It started to make sense inside her head, as much as she would have chosen it to be different. Maybe it wasn't so bad. But she had to be sure of something first.

-Just you and me?-she repeated.

He nodded.

-Aye, I swear it. By your Gods and mine. Hell, I'll even swear it by Arthur's God for all that's worth it.

Oh the honesty in his eyes, so usually mocking and dark, nearly drove her to tears again. She lifted her hands and held them against the dark stubble of his face.

-I missed you-she whispered before pulling him to a passionate kiss.

Many blissful hours into the night, she was back inside his bed, naked and bathing in the warmth of his body. Her hand played distractedly with his. Moonlight turned her skin to silver and snow; her freckles to ashes. Lancelot leaned and kissed her tenderly.

-I have to feed my cat-she announced after, before getting out of bed and pulling his tunic over her head, hiding her body despite his protests.

-You're leaving me cold and lonely for a cat? I feel humiliated-he exclaimed dramatically. Devnet rolled her eyes.

-I can't have _my baby _starving to death, you heartless bastard! I'll be back in no time, I promise-she smiled over her shoulder before shutting the heavy door behind her.

She shivered. A gush of icy wind trespassed the cloth of the tunic, making her skin prickle. The stone floor was cold beneath her feet. _I should've brought socks._

-Had a good time?-.

She jumped.

-Gawain!-.

-Much to your luck. Im sure Arthur wouldn't be so amused of this-.

Devnet looked over her shoulder at the door to Lancelot's room.

-Uhm…-.

Gawain crooked and eyebrow.

-You can explain?-he suggested teasingly, before laughing-Worry not, stupid. We already know about this-he pointed his chin over her shoulder-Nice tunic, by the way. Is it yours?-.

Devnet tugged at the hem of the shirt, self-conscious about the fact that it barely covered her thigh.

-Stop staring, arse-she snapped-How did you know?-.

-Oh, tonight at the tavern Tristan shared his amusing theory with us and we all put two and two together-he reached over to pull the sleeve of the tunic back over her shoulder-You fooled us for quite some time, didn't ya?-.

Devnet sucked at the tip of her thumb. An old habit.

-Five years-she admitted, embarrassed.

Gawain barked out a laugh.

-Well, I certainly did not expect it to be _that_ long-he sighted.

-But… you're not mad?-she ventured.

Her friend shook his head vigorously.

-Nah. Im not judging. You'll know what you're getting yourself into. All I'll say is that you'd better make your business quietly or take it somewhere else. It is one thing to hear Lancelot going down on a random lass. But I'd be deeply disturbed to hear my best friend's moans of pleasure-.

Devnet giggled, flushing red. She stood on her tip toes and kissed his bearded cheek.

-Of course-she paused for a moment-Do all of the men know?-she added.

Gawain nodded somewhat glumly.

-Aye, and not all of them are taking it as easily as I am. Be careful, Little One-.

-Will do-Devnet smiled and turned on her heels towards her room, but turned a few steps ahead and raced back to the knight, hurling her arms around his neck and burying her face between the shaggy strands of his hair. He smelled of leather and ale.

-Thank you for not getting angry.-she whispered, emotion and relieve caught in a lump at her throat. Gawain chuckled as he returned her hug before lowering her back to the ground. He pecked her cheek brotherly.

-Lancelot's not worth my anger-he laughed.

It was a relieve, Devnet noted to herself, that things had finally cleared off. Next morning it felt like waking up from a long nightmare full of gloominess and bad omens, back into the life that made her happy. Finally things were starting to improve.

Today she decided to stop by the nursing hut to help Dagonet. The giant knight received her with the small curling of a smile, inviting her in and leaving her to sort out the medical herbs he'd collected that morning.

Devnet executed the task humming quietly, a smile playing over her lips. As much as she did not expect Lancelot to cease his womanizing manners, she knew that he would go no further with other women now. Named or unnamed, they were closer to lovers than they had ever been before. And the flirting didn't bother her. In fact, she hoped he wouldn't change that, since it was part of his charm.

An apprehensive series of knocks on the door made her turn her attention as it opened. Speaking of the king of Rome, in stepped Lancelot, holding a hand against the blood stream springing from his nose.

Her eyes fell with shock on the bright red trail all over the front of his clothes and the drops running down the arm he held to his face. His fist was completely smeared in blood, clasped firmly around his nose in a fail attempt to stop the bleeding.

-What happened!?-she gasped, eyes fixed on the bloody stains at his feet.

-Someone told Arthur-Lancelot said for all manner of answer. His voice came out muffled and nasal, as if he was constipated.

Devnet's eyes nearly popped out of her sockets in surprise.

-He _punched_ you!?-.

Lancelot grimaced.

-Not only that. I think he broke my nose-.

Devnet was in absolute shock, trying to imagine her roman friend, always so tranquil and in control of himself, hitting his best friend so hard it had broken his nose. For Gods' sake, he was probably very, very angry. And she was next. A lump formed at her throat.

Lancelot cleared his throat, or tried to. His own blood got in his mouth and he ended up coughing and spitting.

-Dev, I mean not to disturb your thoughts, but I am a bloody mess at the moment-he managed to say.

She snapped back to focus.

-Right…of course. All right, first we've got to stop the bleeding…-she turned to look for cloths on the cabinets.

-Oh, and Dev…-Lancelot sounded reluctant.

-Yes?-.

-I am not the only one-.

She turned to question whatever he meant, but had her answer before she'd even opened her mouth. Galahad has stepped in beside Lancelot, sporting a black eye the size of a plum and a split lip.

-Yikes!-she winced-And what happened to _you_?-.

Galahad sighted and replied through gritted teeth.

-Guess who was that _someone_ who told Arthur-he admitted with regret.

She cast a reproachful look in Lancelot's direction.

-You _punched _him!?-.

-It's the sneaky traitorous rat's bloody fault I got my nose broken in first place-.

She turned to Galahad.

-You _told_ Arthur about him and me!? Galahad! How could you!?-.

-Aye, aye. _Listen_, can we discuss all of this later?! -.

-What in the sake of everything that's good and holy is going on here?-.

The three of them flinched at Dagonet's booming voice, as the giant stepped into the room, demanding control over his domains. His clear eyes danced from Lancelot to Galahad to Devnet and back, waiting for an answer from either of them. Devnet sighted and explained the whole situation to him. By the end of her tale, Dagonet shook his head in disbelieve and sighted.

-All of this is for such an insignificant affair? You are all mad. Mad and immature, that is-.

-Here, you idiots, I'll bleed myself to death before Lancelot if y'all keep staring at each other like a fucking flock of sheep-.

-Grow a pair, pup-.

-Lancelot…shut up-.

Dagonet examined his two brothers with a critical eye before saying:

-Dev, find something cold for Galahad to hold against his eye while I tend Lancelot. Bring a wet cloth to clear all the blood away.

Devnet dipped a pair of cloths on a bucket filled with melted morning frost and pressed one against Galahad's purple eye. He winced, but held it in place.

-That will stop the swelling, just keep pressing softly-.

She joined Dagonet, who was studying Lancelot's mess with a critical eye.

-What do you think?-she asked.

-It is certainly broken. I'll have to put it back into place or he's risking to keeping a crooked nose. However, I can't do it with all these blood. Clean him while I prepare an ointment for Galahad's eye-.

Devnet brought a bowl with water and started washing Lancelot's blood stained chin. Red drops were trailing down his neck as well, and soon enough the water from the bowl was coppery.

-Dag, it won't stop bleeding-she announced, preoccupied.

The healer was smearing Galahad's bruise with the salve, a sticky substance that the young knight didn't fancy very much.

-Give him some more frost and then we'll twist the bone back into place-_stop that_, cub, this will help to demise the swelling-what a mess you two have made of yourselves-.

Devnet pressed the icy cloth beneath Lancelot's nose, twisting her face at the ugly angle it was twisted.

-How did this happen?-.

-Arthur summoned me. When I arrived he told me to come closer, so I did. Before I knew it his fist was in my face. I was smart enough not to ask why-.

-So you went in search for Galahad and punched him?-.

-Aye. Found him at the tavern and knocked him off his seat. Then Vanora scolded us both here-.

Devnet shook her head, looking sideways at Galahad who sat on the table fighting the urge to scratch at his eye.

-Will the slash in his lip need stiches?-she wondered to Dagonet. The man shook his bald head.

-No. It's just a scratch. I'll close on its own-.

-It burns-complained Galahad.

-Its supposed to, kid. Now. Let's look at that fracture-.

Devnet stepped aside to give him space.

-You. And you. Hold him. This will hurt-he warned.

Lancelot grunted as Devnet and Galahad wrapped their arms around his shoulders.

-Just get it over with-.

The crack of the bone made Devnet gag in horror. Lancelot tensed but did not scream. He did curse in all ways possible that came to his mind.

-_Fuck. Shit. Gods be damned. Fucking shit. Damn. Fuck_-were only some of them.

Dagonet slapped the side of his head.

-Watch that language in front of the girl, idiot-.

The curly-haired shot him a fulminating look.

-This hurts, you dim-witted git-.

At that moment, Arthur surprised them by stepping inside the infirmary.

-You have it well deserved-he commented coldly.

-Devnet seems to think otherwise-Lancelot's tone was challenging.

-Devnet is not thinking straight-.

-Devnet is right here and she doesn't fancy when people talk over her-she cut them off.

She stepped forward to face him, or his chest, for as anyone else, he was taller than her. His face with a sullen mask of fury and reproach. If looks could burn…anyone else would've turned into a pile of ashes at his feet, but Devnet had been dealing with his overprotectiveness her whole life.

Arthur fulminated her

-You. What in the name of God were you thinking!?-.

-That's interesting, I was just about to ask the same question. Dag's floor is covered in blood because of you-.

-This is because you've been messing around with the wrong men-.

-He's your best friend-.

-He is too fond of what's beneath a lady's skirts-.

Devnet would have replied, but at that moment Bors stormed inside, followed by a bored Gawain and an expressionless Tristan. Dagonet seemed clearly disturbed that his nursery had turned into a common room.

-WHERE IS HE!?-Bors roared, looking around, eyes falling over Lancelot-Im gonna break your ugly nose all over again, pretty boy. You should've kept it in your breeches with _he_r-.

The younger man rolled his eyes.

-Just because you oafs saw her as little sister all this time, doesn't mean I did-.

-You bloody bastard! You are not living to see another morning!-he flung himself in Lancelot's direction with every intention of reducing him to a bloody pulp. Devnet couldn't help but scream, Galahad jumped away from the table, Arthur called for order in vain, Gawain just looked bemused and Tristan was eating an apple.

-Bors!-.

At that, Dagonet stepped in the man's way and contained him; being the only one who was able to do so. Bors twisted and struggled against his grasp, growling like a furious bull. Dagonet finally got him to calm down and back off to a corner, were he stayed casting dark glances at Lancelot. Devnet felt slightly surprised. She'd never thought Bors would care so much about her virtue. Deciding it had been enough, she steped on a stool and whistled to catch all of their attention.

-Now-she began firmly-Listen closely, you pack of brutes. I am not some naïve little wench that goes through life with no idea of what it's all about. I know damn well what Im doing and my beneath-the-sheets activities are none of your damn business. Im a grown woman, I know how to tight my own laces, thank you very much. I don't need y'all over me, guarding my every move. I'll do whatever pleases me, whether you like it or not-she paused to catch her breath, blowing the loose strands of her braid of her face-Besides, for the love of all the Gods, it's just Lancelot, not some serial rapist-.

She ended her little speech with a glare that dared them to speak against her. After what seemed an awfully long silence in wich everyone returned her with blank expressions, it was, unexpectedly, stoic Tristan who finally took the word:

-Well, it was us who taught her to stand for her own choices and speak her mind in first place -.

The scout shrugged, a secret smile of amusement playing on his hazel eyes before he left the hut, munching his apple.

Gawain cleared his throat and clasped Bors shoulder.

-C'mon, you ugly brute. She's right. Besides, the stubborn little mule knows how to defend herself-.

Bors grunted.

-Let it go, Bors-warned Dagonet-You are not starting a fight in my infirmary.

Devnet's eyes where fixed on Arthur. Despite her words, she did care very much for his opinion, after all, he'd known her longest, and for many years he'd been the only friend in her life. His approval meant the world for her.

Arthur looked at her, trying to accept the fact that she indeed was no longer that troublesome little girl he so much loved, but a young woman whose life he could not control. Over the corner of his eye he cast a quick look in his First Knight's direction and sighted. It could be worse, he told himself. The man had more sins than all of them put together, but he wasn't bad. In the end, Arthur trusted him with his life. Why not trust him his sister's heart?

-But _what_ is this?-he couldn't help but wonder.

-Let's not waist our time on labels-she skilfully avoided the question-It is what it is-.

The roman sighted.

-Very well then-. He could only smile when she saw the glimmer of joy in Devnet's eyes_. Spoiled little brat_-But…-he thought for a moment-You'll be cleaning the stables this afternoon. With all that cleaning implies. -he gave her a pointed look.

Devnet's face decomposed, suspecting what he meant.

-Are you…_punishing_ me?-she asked incredously. Arthur chuckled amusingly for an answer-You can't do that!-she protested, jumping from the chair.

-Is that so?-Arthur coiled an eyebrow at her-As your metaphorical elder brother, I believe I am in my divine right to ground you-.

-Under what fundaments?-.

He smirked.

-Being with unhealthy company-.

Speechless, the brunette looked around her, waiting for the men to come in her defence. Surely they had to see the ridiculousness in this. But she received nothing but mocking smirks. Even Lancelot looked smug.

-What, a minute ago you were biting at one another and now you're all in the same side?-she snapped.

It was Bors who laughed boisterously.

-That's how men work, lassie. We get angry, through a couple of punches and insults here and there, and it's all settled-.

She lifted her head with indignation.

-You bastards will pay for this-.

-How intriguing-replied Arthur-Stables, Devnet. _Now_-.

**Well, I hope you enjoyed this one. Leave your reviews to see what you think so far, please! I'd love to read them. Love, call-of-the-wind ;)**


	10. VI) Shards of Home

**Hello everyone! This chapter is mostly fluff and reflexive, almost a whim from my part. I promise next chapter will finally join the plot-line of the movie, I don't want to extend it any further, otherwise it becomes to tiring, doesn't it ? Well, as usual I ask of you to leave reviews of your thoughts regarding the story, to help me develop it in the best way possible. Enjoy!**

-Ah! If it isn't our favourite stable girl-.

Devnet shot Gawain an ugly stare as she walked towards the training yard, thinking of a few very un-lady like curses she should spit in Arthur's direction. "You'll clean the stables today". Liar. It was the fourth day he'd ordered the same thing, just because he could. The smell of dirty hay and horse dung was haunting her by now.

The knights were sitting around the yard, waiting their turns while they sharpened their weapons. Galahad and Dagonet were circling each other, swords held firmly, ready to meet. Devnet motioned for Gawain to move and make space for her on a bench and sat to pull her soft cotton pants inside her boots, studying the two men confronting each other.

Galahad was a remarkable fighter, but he was lost against Dagonet. Being so big, it was to be expect the later one to be slow and heavy. On the contrary, he was gifted with incredible agility. It was not that, however, what played against Galahad, but the giant's patience. Dagonet limited his actions to circling around Galahad in a defensive position, waiting for the young knights to lose focus due to exasperation. Then Dagonet would give an accurate thrust that knocked Galahad backwards.

-His passions play against him-pointed Lancelot, leaning his shoulder against the wall beside the bench. Gawain nodded at his words.

-Aye, the cub feels too much-.

Devnet pursed her lips.

- If only he learned to control his impulsivity-.

-It's more than that-cut Tristan. He sat crossed legged on the floor in front of her, sharpening the sword he held over his lap-When it comes to face-to-face battle, he thrust to hurt, not to kill. He lacks discipline-.

The brunette's face became sombre-You mean he's not a cold-blooded killer-she replied sourly.

-No-Lancelot shook his head-Tristan's right. He is not able to hold back his feelings. You either kill or get killed. It's the only way to survive here. If you let compassion, or empathy make you doubt, you're dead. There is no guarantee that your enemy will share such feelings-.

To Devnet, who had been taught throughout her life to respect every life above anything else, those words horrified her. She knew she was capable of killing when it came down to her own life or the ones of those she loved. But she would never detach herself from her feelings like that.

-That's inhuman-.

-War comes as natural to humans as love does-Gawain clasped a hand gently on her tiny shoulder-We do whatever it takes to survive-.

At that moment, Dagonet slammed Galahad's arse on the mud for the third time. Devnet's almoust twin lifted a hand to call a truce, breathing heavily.

-Enough-he panted.

Bors chuckled mockingly.

-Tired, pup?-.

Galahad showed him his middle finger-Of falling on my ass every two steps? Aye...The floor is hard-.

Bors cackled in amusement. Dagonet rolled his eyes and helped Galahad to his feet with a gentle smile.

-You fought well-he stated with his deep voice. Galahad shook his head in denial.

-Don't go all pity taking on me, Dag. I lost. I accept that-.

Galahad had always been an awful loser. Devnet stood up and skipped towards him with a smile on her face, willing to cheer him up before he stormed off to suckle in a corner.

-C'mon, Gal. Body combat. You and me-she invited, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist the offer. Such fights normally ended in both of them rolling on the ground like pigs, laughing their arses off.

He pressed his lips together with reluctance. Devnet nudged him, not willing to give up.

-What? Scared you can't beat a girl?-she pocked playfully at his pride. It did the trick. Galahad started to smirk slowly. The glimmer of his blue eyes returned. He rested his sword against a bench and followed her to the centre of the courtyard, positioning himself to an offensive stand-up. The others smiled and pulled their seats in a half-circle around the two opponents, eager to see who obtained victory.

Galahad shook his head with a crooked grin.

-Do not worry, sweetheart. I promise I'll go easy on you-.

Devnet smirked.

-That won't be necessary-she twisted her body immediately and thrust a kick to his chest, hoping to catch him by surprised. Galahad stopped her foot in mid-air and pulled it, knocking her to the ground. She rolled in the dirt before he could hit her, jumping to her feet as she backed away to gain space. Again she attacked and again he stopped her, this time grabbing her arm and making her turn, holding it painfully behind her back. She gritted her teeth. Galahad's breath was close to her ear, his beard tickling her cheek. He sounded cocky.

-You fight like a girl-.

-At least I_ know_ how to fight!-she grunted before slamming her free elbow against his stomach. It knocked the air out of him, and when he bent, she found herself free, though only for a moment before he was back after. They battle eventually moved to the floor, were both youngsters rolled in the mud, covered in dirt and laughing. Years of training had made Devnet strong enough to match the men's strength, but she lacked the muscled frame. Instead, she had to trick herself out of Galahad's control, making use of her whole body and her speed.

Soon enough she managed to roll over him and sit on top, holding his arms away from her face with a triumphant grin.

-Give in-she demanded. Around them, the other knights were collecting the results of their bets.

Galahad frowned.

-Never-.

He applied all his brute force on her. Devnet's whole body trembled with tension as she struggled to match him. Drops of sweat bedded her forehead. She started to give in. A strangled cry escaped her lips before Galahad knocked her to the mud and reversed their positions. She hissed in frustration, trying to free herself in vein.

-Fine!-she gritted in the end-I give. Now get off me!-.

Galahad was too busy gloating to be a gentleman and help her up, so she pulled herself to her feet, grimacing at the places where surely there would be bruises. Besides, she was covered in mud and dust. Gawain was laughing at her.

-You want a fight too?-.

He chuckled-In your state, I'd beat you with my first blow. But Im a bit sore this morning, after my…late night activities-he flashed a dirty grin at her.

-What activities?-Lancelot smirked in Gawain's direction when he overheard the conversation-I sleep next door to you and all I heard was your snoring-.

Devnet joined the men's laughter, ruffling Gawain's hair.

-You'll have to introduce me to this _fascinating_ imaginary lady of yours-she commented, pulling another round of mocking chuckles.

A hand fell over Devnet's shoulder, and she turned surprised, smiling when she saw it was Arthur. But then she recalled she was supposed to be angry at him and shook him off. The others had calmed down their laughter and were now smiling at their commander.

-What?-snapped Devnet-I've already cleaned the stables-.

The man narrowed his eyes at her with a thoughtful expression, but then a chuckle escaped his lips and he forced her into a brotherly hug.

-Fine. Your punishment is over-he tickled her, causing her to yelp and twist before she managed to snake away.

-If it was ever a punishment-she sneered-You were just getting back at me because you could-she stuck out her tongue, but ended laughing as well. After all, she was only too glad to get away from that damn place for a whole month.

Arthur pulled his arm around her shoulders and motioned for the rest to gather around. He had something to announce. Excitement washed over Devnet and she smiled in anticipation. Finally, they were going out!

-Knights-began the young roman-We have new orders-.

Lancelot snorted with a smirk.

-Don't we always?-.

Devnet rolled her eyes. Their commander and friend kept talking.

-Bishop Germanous is a day's ride from here. We are to ride out to meet him, and escort him to the fortress-he smiled and added-Where you shall be granted your discharge papers-.

Joy covered the men's faces, exchanging looks of happiness and excitement. They didn't even care about having to face danger again to escort the bishop, as long as their freedom was at hand. Devnet giggled, sharing their pleasure.

-We leave in an hour-added Arthur after the clamour had quieted. The bishop's carrige arrives in the morning, but we'll be spending the night in the forest, to clean the area from any possible woes. Ready yourselves. We shall meet at the main courtyard-.

She headed straight to the bathing rooms, and scrubbed herself pink until her skin was oversensitive and the water muddy. She dressed in soft black cotton pants, a thick shirt and a hard leather corsé over it. Her cat_, Cataibh_ was sitting impassively on her bed, watching her gather everything she might come to need during the excursion. When she patted its furry white head, it purred for a moment and then went back to sleep, as if the world had nothing to do with her existence.

_Gods bless her._

She stopped by the armoury to pick up her bow and her quiver of white-feathered arrows. _Damn_, Tristan would scold her again for not changing those feathers. They made her visible, he said. Might as well light a bonfire and start screaming her location. As much sense as that made, Devnet always ended up ignoring his warning. Those old arrows had been given to her by her father. The white feathers helped her to retrieve them after a skirmish.

-Tristan will shoot you on the spot for those arrows_, petite_-.

She smirked at Lancelot while swinging the quiver over her shoulder. The charming man held his twin blades crossed behind his head, grinning at her with amusement.

-You're one to talk. You'll cut your own head off one of these days-.

She hanged a couple of daggers from her belt and hid a small pair of knives between her garments. Then stood on her tiptoes and kissed his chin.

-Come, you suicidal lunatic. I don't fancy earning another day cleaning stables for being late-.

The wet season that preceded the first snows of winter had arrived from one day to another. When they rode off south, Devnet could feel the humidity sticking through her clothes and the faint drops of misty drizzle against her face. They sky was stained with every shade from white to grey. The speed of their steeds made the water freeze on their clothes, and by the time they finally pulled their horses to a slow pace, they were shifting uncomfortably in their saddles. As much as they hated it, the men were already used to the cold, wet climate of Britain, but Devnet could not stand the cold, despite living here her whole life. She pulled her cloak from the bags in her saddle and wrapped it tight around her, pulling the hood over her head to keep any more mist drops from covering her hair like a grey mantle.

-I've often thought about what it was that made the romans conquer this cursed piece of rock-Gawain broke the sullen silence thought no one was filling particularly talkative at the moment. By now the men were starting to have second thoughts about that mission. Why couldn't the romans escort their own instead of sending them off to bring his royal holiness -_royal holiness my ass-_ Were they so damn stupid they couldn't even protect one of their own?

Gawain was pursing on-It's cold, bleak and infested with Woads-.

Devnet narrowed her eyes at him, offended by his tone-Excuse me?-. Her friend shrugged.

-They do try to kill us, Dev-he shook his head-My point is, what does Rome gain from all of this?-.

-Power?-suggested Galahad.

-Arrogance and more stupidity?-sneered Lancelot, tousling his thick curls to wipe off the drizzle drops.

Tristan's quite voice flowed to them a few steps ahead, cold and stoic.

-They do it because they _can_-.

Devnet nodded gravely, in agreement. To her, Rome's motives were rather plain to see. All you had to do was study their history.

-Why do you think they invaded Sarmatia in first place?-.

The other knights seemed surprised by her question, staring at her as if she was some ignorant child asking why the sky was blue.

-They saw us as a threat-stated Galahad, proudly showing a fierce glimmer in his eyes-It's quite obvious-.

-Really?-Devnet turned in her saddle to look at him, sceptical-A bunch of tribes riding around hills with nothing on them but grass , mud and streams? Terrifying, Im sure-.

They took her words rather personally, as if it wasn't the plain truth. Before they could snap at her for being a traitor to her own people, she went on:

-Do not get me wrong. Sarmatians are proud, fierce and deadly, but not a single tribe ever moved a finger against Rome. If they went to war, it was to protect their own territory. Otherwise they would've just stuck to peace. The romans had no real reason to invade Sarmatia, but plain, raw greed. As Tristan so eloquently pointed out. They did it because they could-Devnet's gaze drifted away to the dark coloured trees passing by around them, mist coiling between their millenary roots. An unexpected pang of sadness and nostalgia weighed over her heart-After all-she whispered faintly-What threat could they possibly see in a keen that lives amongst the trees and paints their faces blue?

After that bitter exchange, no one attempted to start another conversation. Perhaps, thought Devnet, it was the gloominess of the day over them, or the anxiety of the future, or simply years of accumulated resentment taking over, as usual. She ducked to avoid a branch, pondering on her own thoughts. Her old anxieties had returned again.

She'd been feeling a sort of call from the celtic people lately, as if her mother's legacy was claiming her from some distant corner of the northern forests, waiting for her to return to the people she had forsaken many years ago. Maybe it was the fact that the life she'd known for years was coming to an end, and she would have to choose how to cope with it.

_I was raised Sarmatian, but I was born and brought up in this land_. The blue people's land. Didn't she even believe in the Gaelic Gods? She'd never praised the knights' deities_. I act like a Sarmatian…but I believe like a Woad_. What did that turn her into?

What is home? She casted a thoughtful look in Lancelot's direction, a few feet in front of her. She'd promised to leave with him. Where? To a land they'd made her believe was her home, but she'd never seen? Her eyes shifted furtively around her. Did she feel for Sarmatia the same way her friends, brothers, her protectors felt?

When her mother died, _dadaidh _could've saddle his horse and rose back to his original land with her. But he hadn't. Had he thought that his daughter truly belonged to Britain?

When they stopped at nightfall, her doubts had not left her, but she decided to leave reflections for later, concentrating on setting up the camp. The group's spirits had unexpectedly sprouted when the fire was lit and they clustered around in search for warmth. At first it was only tempted conversations, but throughout dinner they evolved to the usual jests and laughter thrown at each other over the cackling of the fire. Devnet sat with her head resting against Lancelot's side and her feet crossed over Galahad's lap. He glowered at her with annoyance and pushed her away, only to have her put her feet back stubbornly.

-Take your dirty feet off my legs-.

Devnet faked an innocent expression of bewilderment.

-They're not in your legs, they're in my boots-.

Chuckles rumbled around the fire. Galahad pushed her off again, and once more she lifted her boots cockily over him.

-Do you mind!?-.

-Please-she pouted pitifully, determinate to get what she wanted-My feet are cold. I can warm them by the fire from you lap-.

-Why don't you just move closely?-.

She tilted her head, eyeing him like the answer was obvious.

-Then where would I rest my weary head on?-.

-How about your own shoulders?-.

She grimaced.

-Nah, Im better off here. Stop being a jerk. Im a lady-.

She heard Bors snort to her right. Devnet had to admit that, no matter how feminine she was, she was far from ladyship, betrayed by her actions and most of all, her elegant vocabulary. She showed him the middle finger, chorusing the statement.

Hey eyelids had started to drop, when they asked her to sing, seemingly out of nowhere, thought she had the vague idea that they'd been talking about the women's voice back at Badon.

She shook her head repeatedly, despite their pleas.

-Oh, no. No, no-she stated and they would not convince her otherwise. Every time she sang she felt stupid and childish, awkward. She would _not_ make a fool of herself so they could mock her afterwards.

-Sing!-they insisted-Sing for us!-.

-Something that will help us sleep-asked Galahad, grabbing her had flatteringly, with a wishful expression.

-How old are you? Six?-. Behind her, Lancelot tucked at her hair, making her flinch. She turned to him with annoyance, finding him smirking with charm-You have a lovely voice, love. Sing for us-.

-No!-.

-SING!-.

-Please, _petite_-.

-Just sing the damn song already-.

The damn fools kept on pestering her, driving her patience to a limit that she'd do anything just to get them to shut up. She lifted her eyes to the skies, exasperated. Curse all of them.

-All right, all right, _fine_-she snapped, fighting to keep a smile from her face-I'll sing for you idiots. Only once though, so don't even think of asking for more-.

She despised them even more for the smug, self-sufficient grins on their faces. Sneering with indignation, she pulled her cloak about her, and fixed her face on the dancing flames in search for a song. She felt Lancelot's hand rest over her hips and lift her on his lap, so everyone could see her. After a moment of thought, she started to sing in Gaelic:

_"A naoidhean bhig, duinn mo ghuth  
>Mise ri d' thaobh, O mhaighdean bhan<br>Ar righinn oig, fas as faic  
>Do thir, dileas fhein<br>A ghrian a's a ghealaich, stuir sinn  
>Gu uair ar cliu s ar gloire<br>Naoidhean bhig, ar righinn og  
>Mhaighdean uashaill bhan".<em>

**(Little baby, hear my voice  
>I'm beside you, O maiden fair<br>Our young Lady, grow and see  
>Your land, your own faithful land<br>Sun and moon, guide us  
>To the hour of our glory and honour<br>Little baby, our young Lady  
>Noble maiden fair)<strong>__

She realised she'd closed her eyes sometime during the song, drifting off into the trees while her hand played absentmindedly with the curls at the back of Lancelot's head. Self-conscious, she opened her eyes, to find the men fixed on her with strange smiles on their faces. She was unable to figure out their meaning.

-That was very beautiful-. It was Dagonet who had spoken, making his booming voice impossibly quiet. She noted his eyes glistered with emotion, and he nodded at her with a smile filled with pride. Beside her, Lancelot's breath tickled her ear when he spoke.

-Whatever does it mean?-.

Suddenly, Devnet was struck by an unexpected intrest in her hands.

-Its an old lullaby, from the highlands of the north-she explained timidly, talking to the floor- It's supposed to praise the baby girl, promising she will grow to be loved and taken care of. That she shall have a blissful life of glory and joy-.

She translated the song to them the best way she could, telling them she'd heard it from her mother. She felt reluctant. The song was a very intimate to her, one of the few treasured memories of her mother. All she could recall was her beautiful _màthair_, rocking her in her arms while and singing softly in her ear. She'd only counted with three winters of age. Devnet never knew exactly how, but she'd memorised the song that nights, lulled by the maternal warmth that held her against her mother's chest_. _Sharing such a personal thing with the knights, no matter how close they were, made her feel naked, not in body, but in soul. She felt very vulnerable. Her eyes searched desperately for Arthur. He was the only one who fully understood what that song meant to her. He'd seen Aine sing it to her daughter more times than Devnet herself remembered. The reassuring smile on his face made her feel a little better_. _She pressed herself against Lancelot's chest, strangely invaded by shyness.

-My mother would sing me lullabies as well-muttered Galahad, with a strange tone of tenderness and longing-She wrapped me in furs on the cold winter nights and caress my forehead until I fell asleep. She had a pretty voice too-.

Those words opened a door Devnet had rarely seen in her precious knights. The door to memories of a life long passed them, filled with grasslands and people whose faces they struggled to remember. Of boys very different from the deadly fighters they were now.

Gawain smiled, staring at the flame-It was very windy, where my tribe lived. The wind, would literally howl between the hills; it made your hair stand on end. And the stories about haunting souls lustful for blood the elders would tell us before bedtime didn't help to lessen that feeling-he chuckled-You must know, I was a cowardly child then. Those howls terrified the hell out of me. So mother would…sing to me. Normally of lands so wonderful they could never be real, but I found comfort in believing they were…-he felt into silence, lost in his own memories.

Lancelot was toying with the pendant given to him by his family in what seemed another life ago. He paused before commenting:

-I recall…my sister loving those songs. She never had enough of them. She'd even pledge me to sing for her every once in a while-.

Gawain lifted his eyebrows at his black-eyed companion, smirking-Did she go deaf? rolled his eyes and made a rude noise in Gawain's direction, with a smirk playing over his lips.

-I didn't know you have a sister, Lancelot-Arthur sounded surprised. No one could blame him. Lancelot spoke of his childhood so rarely, it was hard to believe he'd even had a family. Devnet felt the man's chest expand and then fall when he inhaled deeply.

-Aye-he muttered-I did. And a little brother too-his tone made it clear he had no wish to extend that matter further. Lancelot always chose to push back the memories of Sarmatia and the life he'd had there. Whatever happened in the future, that life was lost. He was a stranger to his family, nothing but the memory of a serious son lost to the romans. And they were nothing to him, but a life he no longer had. When he'd arrived to the island, he'd made himself forget his homeland the best he could, because there was no use in feeding his hopes with yearning, when there was nothing to guarantee he'd ever live to see Sarmatia again. And now, he barely recalled anything at all.

They heard Bors sight, while popping the bones of his knuckles-It was a bitch of a place where I lived, mind you-he said with his usual blunt tone-But I guess there was a time in wich I called it home. My mother never sang a bloody song to me, because her voice was uglier than sin, but she told the best stories I've ever heard so far-he spat to the flames-Ah, but that was a long time ago. So much for me, Sarmatia is in the past. I ain't going back there-.

-'Twas a beautiful place, wasn't it, though?-Galahad's voice was nostalgic, his eyes closed to recall the wind against his face-The wind, the grass, the feeling that you could ride on and on forever, until you became immortal-.

Silence spoke more than words, exposing every man's agreement to those words. Devnet wondered what their memories of Sarmatia looked like. All she had were imaginary sceneries in her head, based on what she'd been told. It was hard for her, who had grown surrounded by woods, to imagine a land of endless seas of grass as far as the eye could reach. She wondered if she would ever see Sarmatia with her own eyes. The old doubts returned and she sighted. A home she couldn't even imagine in her head.

**Remember, reviews are the best thing you can offer a writer :3 ! Even if it's just to say you like the story (I hope you do) See you next chapter !**


	11. VII) The Roman Bishop

***A.N: Hey everyone ! Finally, we reach the movie-plot he-he. First of all, thank you to all the new readers (and the old too) and the follows and votes, you rock! I wanted to point out that this whole story is something like a draft, so I might be changing the previous chapters as I correct them (I don't think I'll change the story itself, more like the narrating and such things). That said, here's another chapter with Dev and the gang. Oh, I also started thinking that perhaps I could write a few chapters, or some parts from the other characters POV, thought I haven't made up my mind. You can leave your comments on this choice, telling me if you like the idea or what hahaha Well, now, enjoy ! (I hope) :)**

Years of patrols would never change the fact that Devnet was _not_ a morning person. Anyone who attempted to make it otherwise, would be lucky if he got away with nothing but a few insults. The funny fact was that, after fifteen years of knowing her, the knights still insisted in waking her up at the crack of dawn. The brunette had no intention of rising until the last minute. She merely curled herself into a tight ball and kept held for dear life to her sleep, ignoring every single call that involved her name. Let them ready their departure without her.

She finally dragged herself to her feet when the men were breaking their fast. Stretching her limbs in a cat-like manner, she approached the fire and stole a loaf of bread from Bors right before he stuffed it in his mouth.

-Good morning, gentlemen-she greeted, gracefully skipping away when the burly man aimed to grab her ankle. She sat crossed legged between Gal and Gawain and took a wineskin filled with milk from the first

-Dearest-she looked at Gawain over the wineskin when she took a swallow-You have _got _to do something about your snoring. It's like having a bear breathing in my ear. Very disturbing, I must tell you-. She returned the flask to Galahad and stood on her feet, breathing in deeply. The men simply stared with amused grins on their faces, rolling their eyes at her hussy eccentricity.

She took her time packing her things, while the other waited, leaning against their horses' flanks. Lancelot rolled his eyes in her direction-Is her ladyship done yet?-.

Devnet took _Cian_'s reins in her hand and motioned for him to come closer, ignoring the mocking glare of the others. Lancelot sighted with resignation and kneeled beside her, locking the palms of his hands so she could take impulse to climb on her saddle.

-A lifetime spent in horse-back and half of sarmatian blood inside her, but she can't mount on her own -Gawain pointed out the obvious, making her snort with distaste. Always the same joke. It was not her fault that _Cian_ was awfully tall, when she was awfully small. It was like climbing a mountain. Ignoring the men's chuckles, she supported her foot in Lancelot's improvised stool and pushed herself up.

-At least she's as skinny as a twig-the knight cleaned his hands on his clothes and made his way to his own mount, climbing as easily as breathing. _Show-off_.

According to Arthur's reports, the bishop's carrige was said to cross a well-known glade before mid-day, where the knights would receive him and escort him back to Hadrian's Wall. Their commander sent Tristan ahead to scout the area for any chances of ambush. The others followed at an easy trot through a hilly landscape cut by the wind, making Devnet's eyes water by its strength.

Tristan returned an hour past to report that he'd sighted the roman carrige approach the meeting place, and that he saw no signal of enemies. Arthur ordered them to a gallop across the countryside, in haste to arrive before the romans did.

At their speed, they left the hills behind in an exhalation, and entered a fringe of trees, leaves rustling above their heads. Ahead was a field of high grass that crowned the small valley they'd been headed to. Devnet pulled the reins of her stallion, standing between Galahad and Tristan, and looked at the creek below her. It was flanked at either side by woods, and crossed by a wide stream that flowed soundlessly. The early morning mist was floating low above the grass, giving the place a ghostly touch that made her skin prickle without explanation. The whole valley seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for something terrible to happen. Her uneasiness however, was cut short when Gawain spoke with approval-Ah, as promised, the bishop's carrige-.

Devnet, standing on her stirrups, could just distinguish the figure of a small carrige, surrounded by centurions, rolling down the road that crossed the valley. They studied the caravan with mild interest, different expressions crossing their faces. Beside her Galahad nodded in Bors's direction with a smile.

-Our freedom, Bors-he commented, to him in particular because they'd been discussing the matter that morning.

The older knight closed his eyes and pretended to sniff the air-Mmhm-he grinned-I can almoust taste it-.

-And your passage to Rome, Arthur-added Dagonet, smiling at his Commander. Arthur locked his eyes in the distance that separated him from that carrige, as if he was staring into the golden city of the Roman Empire instead of a moving wooden box. An unexpected sprout of hatred for that cruel vehicle that came to take her men away from her assaulted Devnet, making her feel guilty and selfish. She shuddered it off before anyone noticed.

As the caravan advanced, they were able to study its formation. Six centurions rode ahead. One at each side. Another six riding in pairs behind. Their pace was steady and confident, even from afar the Sarmatians, Devnet and Arthur could see the romans were not alert. Such thing could cost life in this place. Perhaps in a cruel irony of the Gods, at that very moment one of the soldiers at the front let out a strangled scream before falling from his saddle, and arrow protruding from his neck.

-Woads-alerted Tristan immediately, and Arthur had given the order to ride in the romans' aid before the scout had finished talking.

Suddenly the woods around them were alive with Picts, shouting bone-chilling war cries and running towards the caravan. The escorts drew their weapons in synchronization and formed a protective circle around the carrige, ready to repel the attack. As if thirteen soldiers who'd never been in Britain before could stand a chance against the natives. The battle was currently a carnage. Woads were dragging the centurions off their horses and stabbing them to death without hesitation. The romans were clearly in disadvantage, but that's why they had Sarmatian knights at their "service", wasn't it?

Devnet felt invaded by the usual thrill of battle, that burning fire in her blood and the sprinting hear-beat in her chest. Her head emptied of all thought outside the bow in her hand and the arrow she pulled to the string. She had a clear idea when she broke the battling lines to halt Cian just beside the carrige. With agility, she climbed on the roof, where she would have a good vantage point of the battle and her targets. The celtic archers were hidden behind the safety of their trees, but her sharp sight could see were the arrows were coming from, and she aimed there, confident she'd knocked down at least a few of them. She whirled around in search of the knights, shooting any woad that approached her men. She drove and arrow through a man's chest before he had the chance to chop off Galahad's leg. She killed another that tried to sneak up on Bors while the man leaned to kill his opponent. She stabbed a Woad that tried to climb the carrige with the end of her bow.

-COME DOWN FROM THERE THIS BLOODY INSTANT!-Lancelot was fighting a few feet away from the carrige, his twin blades piercing two Woads that had come to attack him from either side. But Devnet was not paying attention to that. Instead she pulled another arrow and shot a third enemy that had been about to sink his axe in Lancelot's head. Surprised, the knight whirled around to find the body nearly falling over him. He pushed it away, looking at Devnet over his shoulder with bewilderment.

-SORRY, I CAN'T HEAR YOU-she called back-IM TOO BUSY SAVING YOUR SORRY ASS!-. She turned and helped Arthur out of a difficult position by shooting the man he was fighting in the hand. At her feet, Gawain had neared his horse to take a peek at the Bishop. A stupid movement on his behalf, because a Woad jumped on him from behind and dragged him down on the mud, threatening to choke him.

-Devnet!-he called in a strangled voice, wrestling with the woad and trying to reach for his axe, lying on the ground a few steps away, at the same time-I could use a little help here!-.

-Im a little busy at the moment-she replied, swinging the arrow in her hand and stabbing a woad in the eye when he tried to knock her feet down from under her. She fought the urge to vomit when the woad twisted and convulsed, blood sprouting from his socket and nose as he stumbled to the floor. Gods, she bloody hated killing them. But no one messed around with her men's life. She turned to help Gawain, praying she was on time, but saw that he'd already managed to roll back on his feet, swinging his axe mightily at anyone who tried to kill him. The woad that had knocked him down was lying dead at his feet. Tristan had decended from his horse and any man who dared to attack him found his doom at the end of the sarmatian's sword. Galahad was riding around shooting the archers in the trees. She saw Dagonet climbing out of the stream-_how on earth had he ended up there in first place?_-and knocking down a woad that rushed to attack him. She shot another that attacking him from his side. Bors was shouting gibberish, sticking out his tongue and punching his chest like a mad-man, claiming on his victory.

The battle was ending as abruptly as it had started. A few were scaring the last enemies away. Galahad had regrouped the horses beside the carrige. Devnet pushed the loose locks of her braid from her face, catching her breath as the adrenaline slowly subsided. Tristan, mounted again, trotted over to her with a chilling frown on his face.

-How many times-he scolded silently; because Tristan did not snap, he spoke with a tone so cold it was even worse-Have I told you not to make a damn _beacon_ of yourself? You were the easiest target perched up there like a damn bird, foolish woman-.

Devnet sighted, swinging the bow to her shoulder-But I wasn't shot. And I managed to save some lives more than once. Some things don't happen unless you take a risk-she fell to her knees and extended her hand to him-Here, help me down-. Grumbling, the man grabbed her arm and lowered her roughly, first to his saddle, and then to the floor.

Only then did Devnet notice the man hiding beneath the carrige. At first she was puzzled, wondering why in the name of _Babd Catha _he would be there, while his sire was in danger. Then she took account of his delicate woollen robes, and the sweat moistening his trembling pale face, and she understood. A servant, surely. A servant who'd never seen a sword in his life. Probably, he'd slipped beneath the carrige, hoping no one would notice him, at the beginning of the attack. He looked like he was about to wet himself, clasping his soft, useless hands in a trembling prayer that basically consisted in stammering words in Latin Devnet didn't understand, nor did she care to. She sneered. A coward man was _no man_ at all. Any woad or sarmatian woman would be shamed to be seen near such a creature.

Gawain sank his axe in the muddy soil and knelt to store his knifes back inside his boots. At the sight of the wildly dangerous looking knight, the roman got scared even more, if possible; his prayers becoming more frenetic, his shoulders slightly rocking back and forth.

-Save your prayers, boy-rumbled Gawain, spitting ever word with sarcasm-Your God doesn't live here-.

Fighting back a smirk, Devnet aimed to grab her horse's reins, but her hand stopped in mid-air when suddenly a Pict came rushing towards Arthur's back with his axe held high. She almoust shrieked in panic, but her friend turned and pointed his sword at the attacker's collarbone before he had the chance to hurt so much as a hair on his roman head. Arthur made the woad kneel. When his blue-tainted face was exposed to her, a short gasp of air escaped Devnet's lungs. Unconsciously, she was about to step in, but Lancelot held back her waist in a movement so sudden and brusque it knocked the air out of her.

-Stay out of it-he hissed, but she was as good as deaf, her eyes filled with blind panic.

-He's my cousin!-she pledged, trying to free herself from his grasp in vain. He held her back without difficulty.

-I know-his grip tightened-Arthur will not hurt him-.

But he didn't sound sure, and neither was Devnet. Arthur had never looked so threatening to her, perhaps because he'd never actually confronted one of her own flesh and blood. Devnet had never been close to Enyak, nor to his sister Guinevere. But seeing him kneel with his life at the edge of Excalibur's tip, she was invaded by a strong urge of fraternal protectiveness. A deadly silence fell over the battlefield as Arthur faced the man with the sun tattooed on his forehead.

-Why did Merlin send you south of the Wall?-his voice was calm, but his tone so hard it imposed itself nevertheless.

Enyak replied as saying something, wich only Devnet understood, because he spoke in Gaelic. _"Spill my blood with Excalibur, and make this ground holy_". Arthur's sword was a legend amongst the Woads. Everybody knew it was originally wielded by the celtic warriors of yore. Her cousin held his head proudly in defiance, waiting for the sword to sink into his flesh almoust as if it was an honour. Devnet squirmed when a faint trail of blood pooled in his collarbone, but Lancelot's arm still clung ruthlessly around her tiny waist.

-_Gods damn it_, Devnet-he growled in her ear-If they see you empathise with a woad, the romans will see you as a traitor-. That finally knocked some sense into her. He did have a point. The idea of the bishop accusing her for treason was not very appealing. She relaxed slightly, though still looking at Arthur and her cousin with apprehension. The young commander narrowed his gaze over Enyak.

-Pick it up-he ordered, motioning to the axe that laid on the grass beside the Woad. At first, the native was reluctant, almoust surprised, but when Arthur sank his sword deeper into his chest, he finally grabbed his weapon through gritted teeth.

Then, something strange happened, something Devnet was sure not everyone else noticed. Arthur's gaze travelled towards the woods surrounded by mist in front of them, looking for something in silent challenge. A cold shudder prickled down Devnet's spine. Suddenly she was certain that Merlin was watching the scene from those trees. It was him who Arthur was challenging. An unrecognisable pang tensed her muscles. Her eyes were fixed on Arthur now, as his were on the forest. Something was exchanged in the air; what it was, Devnet could not say.

The moment passed, and Arthur finally lowered his sword and walked away, sparing Enyak's life. The woad breathed in deeply, his hand evaluating the superficial damage at his throat. Before anyone noticed, he silently crept out of sight, casting one encrypted look in her direction before vanishing in the mist.

Arthur approached the carrige with determinate pace. -Bors-he called, expecting an update on the situation. The broad man stepped away from the carrige looking taken a back, and he pointed without looking.

-What a bloody mess-he muttered.

Peeking over Arthur's shoulder, Devnet saw a dead man dressed in rich robes, an arrow protruding from his head, his eyes unseeing and his mouth hanging ajar.

-That's not the bishop-she heard Arthur state, to her surprise. Taking care not to look at the body, she turned to see her friend pacing amongst the remaining roman soldiers, studying each of their faces intendedly. Gawain helped her on her horse, and they both stared amusedly at the trembling roman servant, now on the driver's seat.

-God help us-he muttered, out of breath with fear _"As if his God would do so"-_What are they?-.

-Blue demons who eat Christians alive-Bors spun abruptly and pointed at the roman-You're not a Christian, are ya?-. The roman sobbed and started to pray again. Bors looked at his clasped hand in awe

-Does this-he muttered-Really work?-the knight pressed his palms together and began muttering gibberish with closed eyes. After a minute, he opened them and looked around-Nothing-he spat-Perhaps Im not doing it right?-.

The roman was close to tears. Devnet rolled her eyes. Suddenly, one of the centurions spoke:

-Arthur. _Arthur Castus_-he chuckled-Your father's image! I haven't seen you since childhood.

-Bishop Germanous-much to their surprise, Arthur greeted the man with splendour-Welcome to Britain-.

Behind her, Devnet heard Galahad snort and mutter-Britain? Weren't we in Hell?-.

Arthur went on talking with the soldier-turned-bishop-I see your military skills are still of use to you-he turned as two guards carried away the body of the man inside the carrige-Your device worked-.

The roman looked amused-Ancient tricks-he replied, quivering his eyebrows-Of an ancient dog-he gave a short laugh. Almoust immediately, Devnet decided she did not like him, let alone trust him. A man willing to sacrifice one of his own, and to kill as many Woads as he had was far from the common definition of holly. If Arthur's God was as benevolent as he claimed him to be, Devnet couldn't understand why He would have chosen a man like that to represent him. His stony, conceited features and his blood-stained sword spoke otherwise of his sanctity.

The man was looking at them now.

-And this are the great Sarmatian knights we've head of so much in Rome-he eyed the group with obvious disdain. Probably a bunch of scraggy looking, blood covered and savage looking men was not exactly what he'd been expecting. When the bishop's eyes fell upon her, however, his contempt turned into a frown-I was not informed there was a woman amongst you-he commented with clear disapproval. Self-consciously, the knights closed around her at his words, their faces fierce and defiant.

-Bishop-replied Arthur carefully-This is-.

-_Alaine_, my lord-she cut him off, using her second name instead, because it sounded less native than the first-My name is Alaine, daughter of Sir Aynor, a former Sarmatian knight who remained in Britain after his serving-she bowed her head slightly, for the sake of cordiality more than respect. Germanous averted his gaze from her, uninterested, and decended from his horse, waling alongside with Arthur.

-I thought the Woads controlled the North of Hadrian's Wall-he commented, cleaning off the dust in his garment.

-They do. But occasionally they venture south-answered Arthur-Rome's anticipated withdraw has only increased their daring-.

-Woad?-the servant asked, puzzled.

Gawain looked at him over his shoulder, unimpressed-British rebels who hate Rome-he informed.

-Men who want _their country back_-added Galahad, red-faced. The resentful venom in his voice made it clear he did not only mean the Woads of Britain.

-Who leads them?-inquired the bishop-.

-He's called Merlin-Lancelot lifted and eyebrow with amusement-A dark magician some say-. A sceptical chuckle escaped the Sarmatians.

Arthur leaned over-Tristan, ride ahead and make sure the road is clear-. The scout snapped his tongue to his mount and road off without a word.

-Please do not worry, Bishop-Arthur turned to the man and escorted him to the carrige-We will protect you-.

-I've no doubt, commander. _No doubt_-. The man entered the vehicle, closing the curtains in his servants face as he climbed up, muttering:

-Dozens don't worry me nearly so much as thousands-.

-_Thousands_?-.

The roman turned to Lancelot, who narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him; but said nothing. Devnet reached out and touched the dark knight's wrist.

-Let's go-she suggested softly.

The ride back home was slow and uneventful. Devnet rode at the front of the caravan along with her companions, trying to keep as much distance as possible from the bishop's guard. If there was something worse than centurions, it was centurions coming straight from Rome. The day had cleared and turned rather warm considering the climate of Britain. Devnet and the knights joked around for the sake of escaping boredom, occasionally looking over their shoulders at the roman guards who eyed them mistrust and muttered amongst themselves.

-What do you reckon they're talking about?-complained Galahad, careful not to lift his voice much.

Tristan, who'd re-joined the group some time ago, trotted beside him and shuddered.-Let them be-he replied in his grave, unamused voice-They've probably never seen a face as ugly as yours-. His comment was chorused with various chuckles from the group. Galahad tried to look indifferent.

-I doubt my face is of much intrest to them-.

-I doubt any part of you is of much intrested to _anyone_-sneered Lancelot, settling his horse at a pace beside Devnet. She rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sight, looking at all of them as if they were children.

–Please-she stated-They're obviously mesmerized by _my_ beauty-.

The men exchanged sceptical looks between the others and then Galahad spoke-I guess that could be true, if they're into fifteen year old girls-.

-_Ha, ha._ Hilarious. That's it, go on laughing, pack of fools-.

It took them nearly all morning to crown the hills and sight their portion of Hadrian's Wall. They stopped the horses, waiting for the slow carriage to climb the slope. Before them laid what until that day, had been home to them.

-Well now that we're free men, Im gonna drink till I can't piss right-announced Bors, grinning.

Gawain lifted his eyebrow at the man before muttering unimpressed-You do that every night-.

-I never could piss straight-the broad man pointed boisterously at his breeches-Too much of myself to handle, down there-.

They rolled their eyes at him, fighting back the knowing smiles of sceptical amusement. They'd heard this from Bors only too many times.

-No, really! It's a problem!-he went on, looking around -It's like a-

-_Baby's arm holding an apple_-they chorused all at the same time with a funny synchronisation. They turned their heads to grin at Bors before breaking into laughter and urging the horses on. They took the road that runned parallel to the Wall. The horses trotted easily, eager to return to their stables. The usual bored soldiers paced on top of the massive construction, saluting at the carrige when it passed below. The road was wide enough for three to four horses to walk side by side, and Devnet urged _Cian_ between Gawain and Bors, chatting animatedly about their plans for freedom,

In a moment they were silent, Galahad fell in beside them, a frown on his face, as usual.

-I don't like him, that roman-he commented with contempt. _"Join the club"_ thought Devnet with a smile. Galahad went on.

-He's here to discharge us!-Why doesn't he just give us our papers!?-.

The three stared at him blankly.

-Is this your happy face?-inquired Gawain after a moment. Devnet and Bors chuckled and Galahad had to smile despite himself.

-Galahad-added the blond knight with mockery- You still don't know the romans? They won't scratch their arses without holding a ceremony-.

-Yeah, why don't you just kill him, and then discharge yourself after?-snorted Bors.

-I don't kill for pleasure-replied the young knight, somewhat glumly. When Tristan passed beside him he added-Unlike some-.

The scout turned his face with the closest thing to a smile he could make. –Well you should try it someday, you might get a taste for it-he chipped before riding on.

-It's part of you-assured Bors-It's in your blood-.

Galahad shook his head, almoust laughing at their words-No, no, _no_!-. His tone betrayed no intentions of thinking otherwise-As if tomorrow, this was all just a bad memory-.

Bors made a sarcastically reflexive "_oh"_, sceptical. He, and many of the others, didn't believe fifteen years, especially of their kind of lifestyle, could be put behind so easily.

-And that, gentlemen, is what makes Galahad ten times the man any of you could ever hope to be. He values life-she blew a kiss in her friend's direction, who grinned before outdistancing them.

-I've often thought about what going home would mean after all of this-doubted Gawain-What will I do? It's different for Galahad. I've been in this life longer than the other-he stared ahead bitterly-So much for home, it's not so clearly in my memory-.

_"Stay with me"_ Devnet pledged inside her head "_Don't leave me all alone"._

-Well you think for you speak for yourself. It's cold back there, and everybody I know is dead and buried-Bors sniffed non gallantly before adding-Besides I have...-he stopped for a moment. Counting in his head-I think, a dozen children-.

-They're elven-observed Gawain. Devnet shook her head with a smile. Only Bors could lose count of how many children he'd fathered. The bald knight looked at their grinning faces and changed the subject before they had the change to mock him.

-You listen. When the romans leave, we'll have the run of all this space-he moved his arm over their surroundings. Devnet noticed that Gawain looked around, clearly thinking it wasn't much of a "place", but remained silent.

-I'll be governor of my own village-added Bors-And Dagonet will be my personal guard, and royal ass kisser, won't ya, Dag?-.

The alluded merely stared at his closest friend blankly, with no intentions of chorusing his words. Gawain sneered.

-First thing I'll do when I get home is find myself a beautiful sarmatian woman to wed-he declared with a smile.

Bors pretended to be puzzled-A beautiful sarmatian woman? Why do you think we left in first place?-he then imitated a cow, making them laugh.

Lancelot rode forward beside them, chuckling as well and shaking his head. Bors turned to him.-What about you, Lancelot? What are your plans for home?-.

He looked at them with husky black eyes, jaunty.

-Well, if this woman of Gawain's is as beautiful as he claims-he began, and Bors started chuckling-I expect to be spending a lot of time at Gawain's house. His wife will welcome the company-.

His comrade didn't share the joke. He scolded-I see, and what will I be doing?-.

-Wandering at your good fortune that all your children look like me-. The man smirked petulantly and trotted ahead.

Gawain called after him-Is that before or after I hit you with my axe?-. Bors was hysterical and Devnet was rolling her eyes. Classical Lancelot.

-Well, you heard him-grinned Bors, after he managed to control his laughter-Devnet, looks like you're marrying Gawain-.

The girl exchanged looks with the blond knights beside her and then they both stared at their as if he'd gone completely out of his mind.

-That's disturbing, Bors, it really is-said Gawain, making a face.

Devnet agreed. -That would be…incestuous!-she pretended to gag.

In front of them, Lancelot turned in his saddle and winked an eye at her, grinning wickedly-Don't worry, love. Your children will have my looks no matter who you marry-.

She blushed pink, trying to burn the back of that mop of black curls with her narrowed eyes. Bors again was roaring with laughter beside her, and she fulminated his broad frame-Don't know what you're laughing at. Half of your bastards have curly hair and a witty tongue they _clearly_ did not inherit from you-she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Lancelot chuckled.

-Lancelot-Gawain's tone was filled with annoyed cynicism-Do you intend to scatter bastards all over the group?-. His sly companion smirked almoust childishly.

Devnet snorted-Well-she said with a final tone-Since I'd rather be married to my horse than to Gawain-_don't give me that look, you'd say the same_-my children will certainly be looking nothing like you, Lancelot-.

-No need to worry over that, _petite_. I can accept it if they take after their mother. You're a treat to anyone's eyes-.

He trotted on to ride beside Arthur before the girl could toss something at his head.

-_Petulant arse_-she snapped through gritted teeth-Oh _shut up_, you two!-she added at the chuckles coming from her sides.

They entered the courtyard at a deafening gallop, pulling their horses in a circle to give space for the carrige. A small of curious and idles gathered around, climbing the bars of the gate to catch a glimpse of the roman bishop. Devnet swung from her horse, smiling fondly at Jols as the man neared to grab the reins of _Vahe_ and _Iustitia_, Arthur's mare. The chief commander of the roman legion settled in Badon was greeting Germanus and exchanging words, but the knights couldn't care less about their business. The dismounted, stretched their limbs and started walking towards the tavern, laughing amongst themselves.

Devnet felt Arthur touch her shoulder lightly and she turned.

-Please go an tell them to gather at the Round Table before liquoring up and out of this world-he smiled tiredly at her. Devnet giggled and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

-I'll do my best-.

She skipped over to where Bors was greeting Vanora, chuckling wickedly. For all response, the red-head slapped his face, making a sound that made Devnet wince.

-Where've you been?-she snapped, hands on her hips-I've been waiting for you!-

Bors looked at her hungrily, making the other men smile awkwardly and chuckle as they passed by.

-Ah, my little flower. Such…passion!-he growled before nearly swallowing her mouth.

Devnet averted her gaze-I suppose it's something I'll never understand-she commented.

-I don't think it's something you'd ever _want_ to understand anyway-said Galahad, and they both made childish gagging noises, laughing.

When the couple broke apart, Bors turned to the flock of children around them and scooped one up.-Gilly-he said-You've been fighting?-.

-Yes-replied the small seven year old boy proudly.

-You've been winning?-.

-Yes-.

Bors smiled and tapped his son's nose-That's my boy. Come all my other bastards!-. He pulled an arm around Vanora, and the children followed them cheering.

Devnet was going to help Jols settle the horses. She turned to her friends, almoust forgetting Arthur's favour-Hey, you lot!-she called-Arthur said you're to meet at the Round Table before you run off to the tavern-she smirked at their groans and shrugged-Commander's orders. Don't kill the messenger-she blew them a queenly kiss before walking _Cian_ to the stables.

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	12. VIII Shattered Ilusions

**Hey everyone out there ! The chapter is now complete, so you guys can enjoy it fully in this very part. As always, let me know what you guys think ! Don't be shy ! It really means a lot to me 3 **

After washing herself and changing into skirts, in wich she felt oddly more comfortable, Devnet trotted excitedly to the tavern. The knights weren't there yet, but surely it was only a matter of time. She did find Vanora, surrounded by her tireless flock of children while she tried to work.

-Hello, pretty-she chipped cheerfully, scooping Ten up while Nine attached herself to her hip. Vanora lifted her head for a minute before sighting with relief.

-_Finally_-breathed the woman-Someone with some sense inside of them. I've been surrounded my idiotic girls all noon, who are much more intrested in discussing that bishop's guards than attending to their work-. The red-head hissed with exasperation, while looking around for something-Now where did I leave that jar…-.

Devnet handed her a jar just in front of her on the table-This one?-.

-Oh, right. Thank you, dear. As I was saying, all they do is gossip about one of those new centurions. Since they haven't succeeded in catching Lancelot's attention like before, they've turned their eyes on a new piece of meat_-Wysteria, Brigit! Go back to work now!-_see what I mean_?-Three! Do not pick on your brother!-_Damn it, to boot, this bunch are driving me insane-.

Devnet leaned over and grabbed her friend's wrist before she had a chance to turn-Hey-she said softly-Slow down. Breathe. Tonight is meant to be an instance for celebration. The men are finally been liberated!-she smiled excitedly, while rocking little Ten to make her laugh.

Vanora breathed in deeply and offered a faint smile-They really are, aren't they?-she commented with a soft tone while leaning to wipe of some substance from Gilly's mouth-After all this years of waiting…-suddenly her face suddenly paled, realising a very important detail-Oh my, if they drink like they're celebrating every single night, an actual celebration for that lot…Oh dear, they'll turn the place upside down! One. Go to the storage and fetch me as much barrels of ale as you can carry. Two, you go and help your brother, sweetie-she turned to look at Devnet-Brace yourself, we'll be dealing with some very drunk men tonight-.

-Oh, please, Van-Devnet placed Ten on the ground and grabbed the tray with drinks set before her-They are not that bad-.

The red-head gave her a pointed look-Have you forgotten that one time when they all vomited over each other and we ended up cleaning the puke off the table _and_ off _them_?-.

-Good point. I'll keep an eye on them-.

-Who are you keeping an eye on?-.

Devnet turned. The knights entered the tavern joking light-heartedly amongst them like Devnet had never seen them before. Freedom suited them well, she decided. She smiled at Gawain beside her. The blond man leaned over the counter and kissed Vanora fondly on the cheek.

-You wouldn't happen to have a mug of ale for some very tired men?-he asked innocently.

The tavern owner stared at him, trying to hide back a smile-As if I could keep any of you away from your drinks for more than five minutes-she placed three cups in front of Gawain-Here. Nwt get out, I've got work to do-.

Gawain flashed a gallant smile at her-You're a sweetheart, Van-.

-Hey, you ugly bitch!-Bors joined them and slipped a possessive arm around Vanora's hips-Stop flirting with my woman or you'll be flirting with my fists-.

Gawain rolled his eyes and smirked teasingly-Oh, watch how I tremble. Gods, a man can't be nice to a girl this days-he grabbed the drinks and took taking off to the table were Galahad and Tristan sat waiting.

Grabbing her tray, Devnet passed the drinks around before rushing to their table and flinging herself full force on her friends' backs-My favourite _free_ men!-she squeaked, clinging to them like a spider. The men spilled their beer due to the impact, and they shooed her off with playful complains.

-Anyway, we're not free just yet-commented Gawain, sitting back down and pulling the little brunette beside him in a friendly hug.

Devnet looked down at him with puzzlement-How so?-.

Galahad laid his cup on the table and smirked ironically-Well, you know Romans, they like to make a thing of themselves by making everyone wait around for their royal asses to feel like they're ready-he chuckled and sighted-Nah, the pope-

-_Bishop_-corrected Devnet.

-Couldn't care less. This man, he wanted a word with Arthur before giving us our papers. Apparently, it was an _"only-roman"_ conversation, since_ we_ were not invited-.

-What would've you wanted to stay for anyway?-asked Tristan. The taciturn man grabbed a knife from the table, pulled his arm back and threw it at a wooden target hanging from the wall-They're probably gossiping about the holy sins of the people at Rome-.

-Or discussing the best way to kneel and pray without peeling off their knees-added Gawain, and the three men chuckled.

Devnet rolled her eyes and nudged him, grabbing her tray-Stop mocking their religion. Its Arthur's God too, have respect-.

-Get out of here, mother-joked Gawain and he poked her side, causing her to yelp and run off, laughing over her shoulder. There was a sort of easiness in the air around her beloved men, as if they could finally breathe in deeply after holding their breath in for years. She felt light-hearted, dancing between the tables and simply taken enjoyment in watching them relax from the battle of their lives. Bors was making the baby jump in his arms, soothing him sweetly. Tristan, Galahad and Gawain were still throwing knives, in the company of a maid that alternated her attention between Devnet's two best friends. She didn't see Dag anywhere close, but Lancelot sat at a table with two other romans, playing dice, and probably loosing, judging by the way he nailed his dagger on the table in front of them. She saw her friend flirt unashamedly with Vanora before the woman slapped him and went back to work. The man turned to Bors, who glowered at him before examining the baby in his arm, as if looking for a trace of Lancelot's features in the child's face. Devnet stifled back a laugh. How Bors could still actually believe Van would ever agree to sleep with Lancelot eluded all possible explanations to her.

Smiling gently, she approached the table and offered the romans some more wine, bagging her eyelashes. Lancelot's reaction was immediate, pulling her back to sit her on his lap.

-Lancelot, please. Im working!-she giggled, trying to keep his face away from her own before he had the chance to kiss her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Galahad gagging mockingly and she turned to stick out her tongue at him. She tried to stand up, but he pulled her back down.

-Stay here and bring me good luck. This sorry fools are leaving me in the ruin-he nuzzled his face to her neck, kissing it lightly. Devnet giggled when his beard tickled her as usual.

-Have you ever considered the fact that _you_ might be a lousy player?-she laughed. She shrieked and twisted when the man tickled her in revenge.

-C'me here-he chuckled, grabbing her chin between his fingers and pulling her into a kiss. To this, Devy felt utterly surprised. Though everything had been sorted out with the other knights, they still kept their _"business"_ to themselves, partly because they were used to do so…thought they had to admit it made everything quite the more enticing. It sent a curious, different sort of excitement down her spine, making her heart leap with unexpected joy.

-Gods bless us, someone's moods seem to have improved with freedom- she teased, scratching at the scruff beneath his chin like she knew he loved. The man almoust started purring like a kitten.

In the knife throwing competition beside them, Galahad was staring at his clean throw with a pleased expression, until Tristan's knife landed right in the hilt of Galahad's. The boy pouted off annoyed, making both Devnet and Lancelot laugh.

-Tristan-Gawain was eyeing the target with intrest, while the girl with them massaged his neck-How did you do that?-.

The scout shrugged, taking a bite from his apple and pointing at the knives-I aim for the middle-he replied, matter of factly; causing her and Lancelot to break into a fit of hysterics again at Gawain's unamused expression.

-SHUT UP!-Bors's booming voice made Devnet flinch, and everyone stared at him wondering what he wanted-Vanora, will sing-he announced.

Everyone at the tavern started cheering immediately, while the woman tried to get away from the show with the baby on one arm, trying to refuse while she laughed at their insistence.

-SING!-bellowed men, soldiers, maids and knights at the same time. Devnet noticed Dagonet had finally showed up and was leaning against a column, smiling as Bors was pushing her to the middle of the circle of tables.

-Sing about home-suggested Galahad.

-Don't drop the baby-added Gawain, grinning when Vanora nearly tripped.

-_SING_!-.

Vanora shook her head with a resigned smile. The musicians had stopped playing, and the woman began to sing with her well-known lovely voice, while rocking the baby fondly in her arms.

_"Land of bear and land of eagle  
>Land that gave us birth and blessing<br>Land that called us ever homewards_

_We will go home across the mountains_

_We will go home, we will go home…"_

As her friend sang the _"Song of Exile" _Devnet looked around her. The knights had fallen in a sort of trance, concentrating on the memories unchained by the song. They had longing plastered all over their faces in all sort of manners. She saw Galahad mutter the words of the song under his breathe, Tristan lowering his gaze in thought, Gawain staring blankly at the space before him. Dagonet's face was grave, and Bors was just standing in front of his lover, gaping at nothing. Beside her, even Lancelot seemed lost in his memories, while he rocked her between his arms almoust unwarily to the rhythm of the lullaby.

Until that point, Devnet felt she'd never truly been aware of how much these men missed their homeland, their freedom, but seeing their faces of shock, and melancholy, and hope all mangled up in one pure expression of longing, she realised it fully, and her heart swelled with tenderness.

_Land of freedom land of heroes_

_Land that gave us hope and memories_

_Hear our singing hear our longing_

_We will go home across the mountains_

Galahad's eyes were closed now, rolling from side to side, living his own memories inside his head. Lancelot was staring down almoust with sorrow. Devnet kissed his temple tenderly and leaned over to squeeze Galahad's hand with a comforting smile.

_"We will go home, we will go home…"_

-Arthur!-.

Jols broke the theatrical spell weighing over all of them. Galahad's eyes snapped open and he smiled, calling his commander's name and walking over to him. The others followed him to gather around Arthur.

-You're not completely roman yet, right?-she hear Galahad joke behind her. Bors chorused his statement with a fiery "RUS".

Smiling, Devnet stood up and went back to work, looking at the knights gathered with fondness. She did not join them, deciding she had no place in that moment between Arthur and his knights. She didn't mind, though. She felt proud. The woman stepped behind the counter to clean the empty mugs, chatting animatedly with Prya beside her.

Suddenly, Bors shout wounded the peaceful atmosphere, making her drop the mug she'd been holding. They clay crashed against the floor in a hundred pieces. In Vanora's arms, Eleven had started crying.

-IM A FREE MAN!-was howling Bors-I WILL CHOOSE MY OWN FATE-.

Uneasy, Devnet stopped picking the broken pieces from the floor and stood up, glaring at the group of men gathered on the far end of the tavern. The knights had their back to her, so she could only see Arthur's face. She did not like what she saw. Bitterness, gloom, sorrow. _A foul mix_ she though. Tension had replaced the peace in the air, and was hovering over the men like a bad omen. What on earth was going on?

Tristan said something, and then Galahad was screaming in reply, everything in his attitude shouting danger-LISTEN, IF YOU'RE SO EAGER TO DIE YOU CAN DIE RIGHT NOW!-he bellowed, pointing at the scout.

-Enough, _enough_!-Lancelot pulled him apart tiredly. But Galahad was nowhere close from done.

-I'VE GOT SOMETHING TO LIVE FOR!-there was pain and fury in the young man's voice, and it made Devnet very, very afraid, not of him, but for him.

Bors was pacing a few feet away, like a caged animal. Dagonet said something to the group and then walked off in the quarters' direction with Tristan. When the giant man passed beside his best friend he stopped and asked-Bors. You coming?-.

Devnet's heart leaped in fright C_oming where?_

-OF COURSE IM COMING-replied the man-CAN'T LET YOU ALL ON YOUR OWN, YOU'D ALL GET KILLED!-he looked back at the group with rage-IM JUST SAYING WHAT YOU'RE ALL THINKING!-.

Her attention went back to the remaining knights when Galahad spilled his wine intendedly at Arthur's feet with disgust and then smashed the flask furiously against the floor before walking off, followed by Gawain.

With that, Arthur left without one more word, and not even a glance in Devnet's direction. Lancelot froze for a minute before following him silently, not looking over his shoulder either. Now sure something was awfully wrong, Devnet left the counter, caressing little Eleven's head when she stopped in front of a very preoccupied Vanora.

-Don't worry-she told her friend-I'll see what's going on-.

She crept behind Lancelot's shadow, keeping herself to the darkness in the corners and taking care not to make a single sound with her steps. The knight was following Arthur towards the stables. She glided through the shadows to arrive ahead of him and be able to sneak in unnoticed. It shouldn't provide much of a challenge. She'd been eavesdropping since childhood. Sometimes, it had been the only way to find out what was going on around her.

Sneaking inside a horse's box turned out to be harder than expected. A quick peek inside informed her that way was definitely out of question. Devnet did know of another one but the last time she'd used it, she'd been eight years old. She sighted with exasperation. The things I do just for sticking my nose in business Im left out of. Around the corner, at the feet of a lateral wooden door, was a small gap in the dirt, probably dug by a dog Gods knew how long ago. The space between the floor and the wood planks was wide enough for a tall child to slip in, and since Devnet was more or less the size of a child, she managed to squeeze through, though it wasn't too enjoyable. She was covered in dirt, probably with spider-webs in her hair, and she nearly choked trying to hold back a sneeze. But she was in. Knowing that they could still see her at any moment, she crawled to the nearest compartment and quietly climbed in. She had to stop right as she was dragging one leg inside because the wood creaked painfully beneath her. Im certainly out of practise she grunted mentally, staying as still as a stone despite her uncomfortable position. But Arthur was too busy tidying some saddles to have heard anything, and she finally managed to get her whole body inside the box. Gods, getting there had been quite the adventure. Sighting, she knelt by the door, quietly soothing the horse beside her, and listened.

At first, all she could hear was a low rumble of words, muttered fastly. It sounded like a prayer. The girl peeked through a small crack in the wood and could just make out Arthur's figure, kneeling in a prayer. At the same time, a set of muffled footsteps caught her attention.

-Why do you always talk to God and not to me?-Lancelot's unmistakeably resentful voice demanded from the shadows. The knight stepped into the limited range of vision provided to her by the gap in the door.

Arthur had turned to look at his closest friend.

-Well, pray-Lancelot went on-To whomever you pray that we don't cross the Saxons-.

Devnet began sucking nervously at the tip of her thumb. Her encounter with Dryscoll weeks before came rushing back to her. He'd mentioned a horde of Saxons gathering in the North. It certainly couldn't be a coincidence that Lancelot mentioned them now.

-My faith it what protects me, Lancelot. Why do you challenge this?-Arthur protested with clear hurt in his voice. Devnet momentarily distracted herself from the graveness of the situation. Gods, when will he stop attacking the poor man for being a roman? How two men as different as summer and winter could be so close didn't make any sense to her. Especially considering they argued over their different believes more often than not.

-I don't like anything that puts a man on his knees-.

-No man fears to kneel before the God he trust. Without faith, without hope, what are we?-.

Oh, these two are hopeless. How many times have they covered this matter? I want to know what in the name of all the Gods is going on!

As if listening to her thoughts, Lancelot drifted back to the apparently real matter of importance.

-To try to get past the Woads in the North is insanity-he pointed out, fighting to hold back his anger.

-Them we've fought before-replied Arthur.

-Not north of the Wall!-.

Lancelot disappeared from her vision for a moment before reappearing in front of Arthur. From what little Devnet could make out, the sarmatian was pissed off and frustrated, while Arthur remained nerve-rackingly calm, wich only managed to anger Lancelot more.

-How many Saxons? Hum?-he demanded, nodding impatiently in the commander's direction-HOW MANY!?-.

Arthur didn't answer, to wich Lancelot only breathed in, deeply altered.

-Tell me-he pushed on-Do you believe in this mission?-. Something in his tone gave Devnet the feeling that he actually wanted to believe Arthur's words, to share his conviction on whatever it was that troubled them, but deep inside he knew he couldn't.

-This people need our help-Arthur sounded determinate-It is our duty to-

Wrong words. If there was one thing Lancelot hated was when they referred his situation to a "duty".

-I don't care about your charge!-he spat, with his classical voice of despise-And I don't give a damn about romans, Britons or this island-his voice lifted to an angry rage, talking rapidly-If you decide to spend eternity in this place, Arthur, so be it. But suicide cannot be chosen for another!-.

-AND YET YOU CHOSE DEATH FOR THIS FAMILY!-.

-NO I CHOSE LIFE! AND FREEDOM! FOR MYSELF AND THE MEN!-.

The girl flinched when they started shouting, their voices echoing on the stable walls. She stifled a moan of anxiety, starting to bite at her finger.

-Tell me-Lancelot's tone dropped to a bitter one again-When we all fall up in the north, whose gonna tell petite how we've left her without a single friendly soul in this world? We're everything she has left in this damn Gods' forsaken life and yet you haven't even thought of her yet, have you?-.

At the mention of her name, Devnet's hands started shaking with absolute panic.

Lancelot panted with frustration, and again moved out of sight. Then Arthur spoke, somewhere to his left, where his friend probably sat.

-How many times in battle have we snatched victory from the jaws of defeat? Out-numbered? Out-flanked and yet still we triumph?-.

Lancelot did not replay. He was probably still too angry.

-With you at my side-Arthur went on-We can do so again-.

Devnet pressed her lips together. She could sense the desperation in Arthur's tone too. He as well was preoccupied, and he wanted nothing more than to count with his best friend's support. Devnet couldn't even imagine those two apart. Brothers. Brothers from different parents, but from the same heart. There was not one without the other. She knew that bond was from where both men drew their strength in battle.

-Lancelot. We are knights. What other purpose do we serve if not for such a cause?-.

She heard the dark knight sight and then say with sad resignation:

-Arthur you fight for a world that will never exists. Never. It will always be at battle-field-he was on his feet again. Devnet could see him now. But for a moment she did not know such man. Or maybe that was the real Lancelot whose shadow she sometimes caught a glimpse of in the depths on his dark eyes. He looked tired, old and defeated. And most of all, hopeless. It nearly crashed her heart.

-I will die in battle. Of that Im certain-he nodded with an absolutely sure expression on his face. Not sad. Not even resigned. Merely honest. Perhaps that was the worst of all.

At that, she shoved her whole fist in her mouth, biting hard at her knuckled to keep herself form sobbing. How could he say that? How could he be so convinced of such fate? How could anyone break someone to a point of being certain of his own death? And this was no ordinary man. He was the man she….she…

-And hopefully-he continued, though Devnet was quite sure she did not want to listen anymore-It'll be a battle of my choosing. But-his voice faltered ever so slightly, in a gesture so unlike of him-If it be this one, grant me a favour. Don't bury me in our sad little cemetery-.

The image in Devnet's head, of Lancelot laying between the graves of Kay, and Morderek, and Percival and so many others who had fallen; of her own father, made tears cover he eyelashes.

-Burn me. Burn me and cast my ashes to a strong east wind-.

To Sarmatia she realised. To his home. And his freedom. She blinked, and a single pair of tears serpent down her freckles. She dried them off quickly, stood up and opened the door.

-Why would he do such thing?-she demanded out loud.

Both men flinched and turned their heads to her, surprised and slightly scolding her, for they realised immediately she'd been eavesdropping. But none of them said anything. Arthur simply stared at her sadly. Lancelot was still angry.

-Why. Would. He. Do. That?-she repeated with harshness, marking each word with a clenched a fist at her side-Huh?-.

Still they remained silently. She covered the distance that separated her from the two most important men in her life. She pushed back the sleeves that had slipped down her shoulders in her sprout of bravado, but they only went down again, exposing her shoulders as pale as moonlight. She ignored it, crossing her arms over her chest.

-Well? Wich of you is going to tell me what the fuck is happening? –she couldn't control the anger that was starting to boil at the pit of her stomach for being excluded-What is all this talk of battle and Saxons?-.

Finally the men seemed to sprout back to life. Lancelot jumped over the wooden bar that separated him from Arthur and started walking off. He stopped beside her for only a moment to snarl through gritted teeth:

-Let the commander tell you-he spat with contempt before storming off, leaving nothing but the weight of his anger.

Devnet's eyes followed him for a moment, lips slightly parted in surprise at the harshness in his words before turning back to the roman in front of her.

-Arthur?-her voice faltered. She stepped closer, with a pout of concern. She extended a trembling hand and slowly laid it upon the man's sombre cheek-Talk to me-.

Her friend sighted with a weight of many years, grasped her little hand and clutched it between his own, the calloused palms rubbing against her skin with tenderness; like an older brother holds her younger sister in the dark.

-Come-he placed her hand around his arm-Walk with me. I will tell you everything-.

Devnet would rather not walk but have him tell her everything right on the spot, but something in Arthur's horribly tired eyes that both scared her and moved her made her do as he wished. At least he didn't make her wait long.

-Rome has decreed a final order for the men before their freedom is given to them-.

-What!?-.

Arthur sighted-As you heard. They're sending us North, to rescue a roman lord whose lands lay beyond the Wall. We are to return with his son so the bishop can take him back to Rome. Only then will my men be free-.

Devnet felt unable to breathe, unable to think, unable to feel. She backed away from Arthur, hugging her frame with her arms. Her mouth opened and closed, trying to find words to say:

- No…No!-she lifted her gaze from the floor to his face with big, vulnerable blue-brown eyes-They cannot do that. No! They…they can't. No….-she shook her head, crossing her palms over her mouth before whispering-Please Arthur…they can't just change things like that…can they?-.

The sole look in his face was enough for all manners of answer. Anger and pain washed over her in equal parts, she couldn't even distinguish one from the other. She nearly choked trying not to cry.

-As long as the discharge papers are in the Bishop's power, he had every right to command-

-No! No he doesn't!-she cried, pressing her lips together with sudden fury-He never did! Not him, not the Pope, not a single power from Rome or any other place in the world for the matter. They were unfairly imprisoned to this …this duty. Torn apart from their home, from their loved ones, from their freedom! They took their lives! For what…war? death? Arthur! Open your eyes! Rome has no right, expect for the one they invented. Besides. Why, in the name of the Dagda, can't they send a legion of their own men to escort such important boy?-.

A savage beast was about to be unleashed from within her, and it was taking all of her efforts to hold back her blind rage. A wild sense of protection over her men's happiness invaded her heart, and she could not believe that Arthur was taking such thing so lightly.

-Your romans are worth nothing-.

-Saxons are invading Britain, Devnet-the man grabbed her shoulders, shaking them as if trying to knock some sense inside of her-Now, you can hate Germanus as much as you want, but this is an innocent family. You'll have us leave them at the hands of an entire horde of enemies who will not hesitate to murder each and every one of them?-.

Out of breathe. That was how Devnet felt. Dryscoll's words, like a prophecy, were coming back to her, becoming true. Like they had always been, only she, idle as she'd been, had decided to ignore them. She covered her mouth, as tears welled behind her eyes.

-Saxons …my grandfather was right….-she muttered, more to herself than to Arthur.

-Your grandfather? What does Merlin know of this?-.

She told him everything, from the Woad leader's visit in Samhain eve and Dryscoll's warning during her patrol with Dag and Tristan. When she finished, Arthur shook his head and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hand, sighting with exhaustion.

-You should have told me, Devy-he reproached her, though not stern.

-I know, I know. I acted like a foolish child, I should've know better. Im sorry-.

Arthur laid a hand over her shoulder-Well, I doubt it would have been any different-.

-You're right-she pushed his hand off-Nothing can change the fact that these men are only pieces of Rome's game-she let out a nasty breath and then runned a hand through her hair-We leave at first light, then?-.

Something crossed Arthur's face when she said that. Something she did not like at all.

-You're staying at the fortress-.

The woman felt the ground was taken away from beneath her feet. Her whole world span and she merely stared at him with wide eyes before saying:

-You must be joking-.

-No-Arthur shook her head sternly-You will not go, and Im sure all the men will agree with me so don't even try to talk them into convincing me otherwise. I cannot risk your life. I have enough with them. It's too dangerous. No, don't say anything. Listen to me. I know you can fight, I know you have courage. I know maybe we'd have more chance of passing the Woads in the north with you. But I don't care. None of that is worth your life. Not when a horde of Saxons might be marching our way. You'll be safer her. And myself and the men shall be more at peace-.

Devnet clenched her hands into fists, fighting the urge to hit him. She was angry. With Arthur, with Rome, with that damn bishop and with fate's itself. She turned and walked away without a word. Deep inside she knew she was being unfair, that Arthur was not to blame and had little control over the situation. He certainly was not happy with it either. But still, he was so convinced that despite the ugly of the situation, it was somehow right. What did he care so much about a roman boy? Sure, Devnet wished that family no ill, but her men's well-being was much more important to her. She could not bear to watch Arthur, who believed in the same people that condemned her men. And to leave her behind…how could he do that to her? How could they do something like that? She'd fought alongside of the knights since she was old enough to kill a man. And now…she wasn't sure whether she'd be able to stand staying behind, wandering what horrors her beloved men would face north of the wall. Fearing she'd loose them without even getting the chance to say goodbye.

She didn't even notice when the tears had started pouring down her face. From a moment to the next, her cheeks were wet and sticky, her eyes burned and an ugly lump in her throat made it hard for her to breathe. She wandered in search of empty streets and halls where she could mourn in fear of losing everything she held dear. She ran, and stumbled, and ran again until she could go further no more, holding her body against a wall and finally sinking to the ground in a mop of sobs.

-Ah, I knew you'd find out soon, one way or another-.

She jumped when Tristan appeared out of the shadows and sat beside her, a mug of wine in his hands. Devnet dried out her tears with haste and stared at him. That man would always elude her comprehension. She could perfectly see through Galahad's hot-head behaviour to the emotional boy inside him, or understands Dagonet's reflexive silence of enjoyment. Hell, she could even trespass Lancelot's dark, sardonic character; but of Tristan she only knew the parts that he showed her. And only in the ways he wanted her to know them. The rest was a mystery, perhaps never to be fully uncovered.

-You don't look much affected-she said, breathing in deep to ware of the tremors of her previous crying.

-Im mad, just like the others, with the romans for breaking their word and extending the contract longer-he took a swallow of his ale-But they're the kind of filth you can't just swipe away, so why waste my breathe in idle complaining?-.

-But aren't you afraid of dying? Just when you are to be liberated?-.

-I've been doing this all my life, Devnet. It's what I do, like it or not. To fight. To kill. It's what I was trained for. To get the work done. I'd have to be a fool to not be scared, but fear doesn't matter to me. I do what I must…and then…we'll see-he finally stopped looking at the wall in front of them and turned to her, with the faintest shadow of a grin-Besides, you can't liberate what's already free-.

She understood him. Tristan was untameable. If the romans had turned him into their knight, it was only because he had allowed it. He could make himself disappear forever, but if, by any ill chance, was he found again, Devnet knew he could take his life rather than give it to the romans. The reason, however, of why exactly he had decided to stay as a knight, was yet another secret of his nature.

She smiled weakly and cried in a voice with the fear of child:

-Don't let them die in chains-.

-None of us will-.

After thinking it for an instant, Devnet shyly snuggled beneath the distant scout's arms and hugged him. At first he tensed, but then, ever so slowly, he held her.

Devnet did not encounter any other of the men that night. They'd vanished to the corners to deal with this new orders in their own way. She did worry about Galahad in particular. Being the closest to him in age, she could perfectly imagine how he was feeling. Not to mention she knew him. Hopefully, he wouldn't commit anything stupid that night.

She wandered like a ghost through the halls at the knight's head-quarters, dragging her feet over the cold stone floor wearing nothing but her night-gown. She'd tried to sleep, but the anguish gave her no rest. Instead, she ended up, inevitably, in front of Lancelot's door. She opened it only enough to take a peek inside and slipping in once she made sure he was there. She'd had faith that she'd find him alone.

Lancelot sat at the edge of his bed, staring into a fire that had long worn out. When he heard the sound of the door, he turned to look at her. They exchanged glances, telling each other everything that needed to be said with just one stare. The man sighted heavily and pulled back the furs of his bed beside him.

-Get in-.

She nearly ran to refuge herself between the sheets, pulling the covers over her body as if the air could freeze her, and nuzzling as close as she could to Lancelot beside her. His arms snaked around her and pulled her close to place a kiss at the top of her head.

-It's all right-.

-No, its not-she cried against his shoulder. The tingling in her eyes was back and she lifted her face to him-I know-she muttered –I know you hate tears but I…I want...I need…-she trailed off.

Lancelot looked at her begging little face destroyed by pain and breathed deeply, nodding.

-Cry, then. You know I'll still be here-he laid a last kiss on her temple before she started sobbing quietly with her face buried at the crook of his neck. The situation remained Devnet of the times after her father's death, when she'd been haunted by nightmares every night, waking up screaming and crying. Every time she did, one of her knights would enter her room immediately and hold her until she fell asleep again. Lancelot had been the one that did so more often, and stayed with her until dawn, until his neck and shoulders were soaked with her tears.

Just like he did that night.


End file.
